


If Wishes Were Hippogriffs

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Mpreg, One Shot Collection, Other, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 05:04:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 37,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossposting from FFNet; my favourite chapters from the prompt challenge I did a year or so ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry/Jim Kirk

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically me picking my favourite oneshots from when I did IWWH over on FFNet. I didn't see the point in posting all 95 chapters, so I'm only uploading the ones I particularly enjoyed writing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Felawred wants… 'Harry/Kirk - Spock's son' -

The pounding music and low lighting of the bar felt like home to Jim, and he relaxed on his bar stool, effortlessly knocking back a shot of whiskey. Damn Bones for getting him hooked on the stuff. His eyes roamed casually over the other patrons, looking to see which lucky girl of guy would be going home with him that night. No one particularly popped out at him, until his gaze landed on a small table in the corner with only one occupant. The man looked young, probably only around nineteen or so, and while he wasn't the most attractive person in the room – not to say he wasn't attractive, Jim added quickly in his mind, eyeing the obvious muscles under the man's tight t-shirt – he looked _interesting_. Jim hadn't seen a person sitting alone in a bar in a long time; at least, not one that didn't look like they'd bite your head off if you talked to them. This guy didn't seem to be drowning his sorrows, he was just… sitting. Jim, ever the curious one, was intrigued.

Slipping off his stool, he swerved around a group of scantily clad, rather drunk women with far too much make-up on who were all making eyes at him, and moved towards the table with the man sat at it. When he was stood opposite, he cleared his throat. "This seat taken?" he drawled, and the man's head rose to meet his eyes. Jim almost did a double-take; whoa, his eyes were _really_ green. The man's lips curled into a small smirk, and he raised an eyebrow at Jim.

"I don't know, is it?" he asked in reply, eyes flashing challengingly. Jim winked at him, dropping into the seat opposite the man.

"The name's Jim. Jim Kirk," he introduced with his trademark charming smile.

"I know who you are. I'm Harrison, call me Harry," the man replied, leaning back in his chair.

"Pleased to meet you, Harry. So, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this? No offence, but this doesn't seem to be your kind of scene," Jim remarked, giving the seedy bar a pointed look. Harry laughed, smiling wryly.

"I could say the same for you; prestigious starship captain, you'd think you'd be hitting all the A-list bars," he retorted. Jim grinned, giving him the point. He got the feeling he was going to like Harry.

.-.-.

Hands grabbed at hair, slick skin rubbing against slick skin, friction creating a delicious heat between their two bodies as mouths met messily, low moans echoing through the room, mixed with harsh, breathy pants. "Fuck, yes, Jim, more," Harry urged, rocking back into Jim, desperate for the man to hit _that_ spot.

"Harry, so tight," Jim gasped, biting down on the other man's pale neck, hard enough to mark yet not enough to draw blood. The two gained a steady rhythm, Jim pounding hard and fast into the younger man, until Harry let out a loud groan, twisting his head to press his lips roughly against Jim's.

"I'm gonna…" he trailed off, biting Jim's lip, groaning into the other man's mouth as he felt his climax flood every nerve in his body. The clench of muscles around Jim's length caused the blonde to reach his own release, his hoarse shout muffled by Harry's lips. The two collapsed against each other, falling limply against the bed in a sweaty heap of limbs. Jim grinned as he regained his breath, kissing Harry once more.

"Fuck, that was good," he breathed, gaining a devious smile in reply. Harry squeezed Jim's bicep, slipping from the bed and into the bathroom, grabbing a damp cloth to clean them both up. Jim took the soiled cloth from the dark-haired man's hand, throwing it towards the open bathroom door as he tugged on Harry's hand, pulling him to fall back against his chest. "Sleep," he urged quietly, pressing a drowsy kiss against the dark purple mark on Harry's neck. Harry smiled, snuggling into Jim's embrace, twining their legs as the Captain wrapped muscular arms around his waist.

.-.-.

Harry was gone when Jim woke up the next morning, and the blonde couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He'd liked Harry; the conversation was great, and the sex, well, it spoke for itself, really. Frowning, Jim shrugged it off, dragging himself out of bed. He had a meeting with the Admiralty at 1200 hours, and he actually had to be awake for it.

Crossing the room to head to the bathroom, he raised an eyebrow at the scrap of folded paper resting on the table. Picking it up, he opened it, and felt the smile tug at his lips as he read.

_Jim,_

_Sorry I had to leave, I had an early meeting to get to. Had a great time last night, call me before your shore leave ends, we'll do it again sometime._

_Harry x_

A vid-phone number was scrawled underneath, and Jim grinned, making a mental note to call Harry after his meeting. Glancing at the chronometer on his wall, he swore loudly and ran towards the shower. If he didn't get his ass into gear, he'd be late, and Pike would not be happy.

.-.-.

After the meeting – which Jim declared to be The Most Boring Meeting Ever, with capital letters – he and Spock left the conference room, and Jim looked over to his First Officer. "You got plans for the rest of shore leave?" he asked curiously. Spock nodded shortly.

"I have a relative in the area that I am visiting with for the remainder of my time on Earth," he answered, and Jim raised an eyebrow in surprise. He didn't realise Spock had any family on Earth; he supposed it must be someone from his mom's side of the family.

"Cool," he replied as the two walked down the path towards the shipyard gates. They flashed their ID badges at the gate warden, who saluted before opening them, and as Jim opened his mouth to speak he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Hey, dad, hurry up! Mom wants you home before dinner!" Both heads turned, and two pairs of eyebrows rose at the sight of Harry jogging towards them, the wind ruffling his jet-black hair. Harry seemed to realise who Spock was with as he came closer, as his expression quickly morphed to a clear 'oh, shit!' face.

"Dad? You're Spock's _son_?" Jim asked incredulously, looking from one to the other. Harry ran a hand through his hair, a sheepish look on his face.

"Uh, yeah… probably should have mentioned that last night, huh?" he remarked, earning a 'no shit, Sherlock' stare in reply.

"Excuse me, but I was unaware you two were acquainted," Spock interrupted with a pointed look towards his son, clearly demanding an explanation.

"And I was unaware you had a son!" Jim shot back, his eyes turning on Harry, who had the expression of a cornered rabbit.

"Uh, yeah, see… it's a funny story…"


	2. Harry/Clark (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Hotflower901 wants… 'Harry/Clark Kent' -

Harry clenched his eyes tighter as he felt the sheets move beside him, the dark duvet being thrown back against him, his bed partner soundlessly slipping off the mattress. Feigning sleep, Harry barely dared to breathe as Clark dressed near-silently, pulling on the t-shirt and jeans that had been discarded in the throes of passion a few hours before. He tensed, unable to help himself as he sensed Clark move closer, and felt a finger brush his cheek. "I'm sorry," the older man murmured, pressing dry, soft lips against Harry's forehead. "I love you." With that, he moved away, sneaking out of the door. When there was silence once more, he let out a sigh, blinking furiously as he determinedly held back tears, rolling onto his back. He hated it. It happened all the time; Clark would make his excuses and sod off for a few hours, returning as if he'd just popped out to the shops. It was worse at night, when he crept out of his bed – _their_ bed – to go wherever he went, always with the same words. I'm sorry. I love you. Harry didn't know what that meant. He was too scared to ask.

Either way, he didn't have the right to say anything. He wasn't the only one with secrets.

.-.-.

When Clark saw Harry's face as his boyfriend answered his cell phone, he knew it was going to be one of _those_ things.

He watched as Harry replied snappishly, his short answers not revealing anything about the origin of the call. When the brunette hung up, he turned to Clark with an apologetic expression on his face, and Clark sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Family emergency," he presumed, and Harry groaned.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, I know it's your day off, and we were going to do stuff together, but… emergency. I'll be back in time for dinner, I promise," he insisted, already sitting to lace up his shoes. Clark nodded, trying desperately to keep a straight face, to hold in the accusations he desperately wished to throw. _Where do you go every time they call? Why have I never met this family of yours? What are you hiding?_

Instead, he merely leant up, accepting the kiss Harry pressed to his lips. The younger man darted into the bedroom, as he always did before a family emergency, and returned to the living room tucking a small wooden box into his pocket. Clark didn't know what was in that box, nor did he know where Harry kept it. Despite several thorough searches of the bedroom, he'd not uncovered anything suspicious.

The slamming of the door snapped Clark out of his thoughts, and he sighed quietly to himself, alone in their apartment. "See you later, then," he mumbled resignedly, wishing he had a right to complain, to say something to his lover. He couldn't, though, because he did exactly the same thing almost every day.

.-.-.

Harry was sat up in bed for once when Clark returned to their room, the digital alarm clock on the bedside table showing 03:49 in glaring neon numbers. The American startled, freezing in the doorway with a rabbit-in-the-headlights expression. "You're awake," he said, surprised. Harry looked at him, mouth set in a grim line.

"We need to talk," he told the other man firmly, wincing at how harsh the words sounded. Clark bit his lip, nodding, and sat down on the end of the bed.

"You're right. This is tearing us apart… these secrets, these lies… I don't want to lose you," he admitted, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Harry's heart clenched, and he shifted on the bed until he was sat beside Clark, leaning his head on the taller man's shoulder.

"You won't lose me. But we need to clear the air. Both of us have secrets, I'm not going to act like I'm innocent in this. I'm just as terrified of losing you as you are. What if you can't accept it?" he murmured. Clark snorted wryly, nudging Harry gently.

"Oh, trust me, you won't worry about acceptance once you've heard mine," he insisted. The couple fell silent for a long moment, Clark's arm around Harry's shoulders, lips pressed against raven black hair. Eventually, he turned his head, staring out the large window towards the twinkling lights of the city below. "I'm Superman," he confessed, bracing himself for Harry's exclamations. Instead, the younger man just laughed, a small grin on his face.

"Oh, thank fuck for that, I thought you were cheating on me," he breathed, and Clark turned to him, eyes wide at the words.

"What? Oh, Harry, babe, I'd never cheat on you! I love you," he assured him vehemently. "I am a little confused; why are you not freaking out?" he queried. Harry's grin became a wry smirk, his vibrant emerald eyes almost glowing in the moonlight.

"I'm a wizard."


	3. Harry/Clark (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Chineseartist wants… 'Harry/Clark Kent (Smallville) - Not Freaks' -

Harry grinned happily to himself as he snuggled closer into Clark's side, the fire in the grate crackling merrily as the conversation around them carried on about menial things like jobs, partners, kids; no mention of war or death at all. Although it had been several years since the end of the war, Harry would never quite believe that they were finally free to live peacefully. He watched as Ginny playfully swatted Fred on the shoulder, glaring at her big brother as he made a joke at her expense. He felt lips press against his forehead and looked up, snapping out of his musings and smiling fondly at the concerned eyes fixed on him. "Penny for your thoughts?" Clark asked softly, squeezing around Harry's waist gently. Harry smiled wryly at him.

"They're not worth that much," he said ruefully, making Clark grin. "I just… I love this," he admitted, resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. Clark hummed in agreement, his cheek leaning on the top of Harry's head.

"Me too. Thank you; you've given me the closest thing I'll ever get to a family. I still can't believe they accepted me so easily," he remarked honestly, eyes fondly watching the family scene spread out among the room. The 'kids' – anyone under thirty – were sat on the floor with the 'babies' – anyone under seventeen – laughing and joking; Hermione on Ron's lap with their hands clasped over her swollen pregnant stomach; Fred and George with their fingers twined between them, demonstrating their latest product with a mischievous fire in their eyes; Ginny curled up on the rug in front of the fire, her head on Dean's thigh; Neville and Luna with their arms around each other, a squirming six-month old baby boy in Luna's lap, one of the few non-redheaded kids in the room. The nine other children, ranging from ages eleven to merely two months old, were sleeping in a bizarre sort of puppy-pile in the middle of the group, merely a tangle of arms and legs with a patchwork blanket thrown over the top. It was getting late, and despite their determination to stay up until midnight, all of them had given in to the urge to sleep.

The 'adults' were on the sofas around the edge of the room, some engaged in their own conversations, others merely content to watch the group on the floor with fond amusement. Charlie and Oliver, twined so close it was hard to tell where one started and the other began, seemed to be in their own little world, Oliver's wedding band glinting in the firelight from where his hand rested on Charlie's hip. Even Percy was lightening up for the occasion, playfully teasing his eldest brother about the hazards of ageing. "Why wouldn't they? So long as I love you, that's good enough for them. And I do love you, very, very much," he added with a small grin, tilting his head up to meet the older man's eyes. Clark smiled back at him, leaning down so their lips could meet in a chaste kiss.

"Not as much as I love you, I'll bet," he challenged.

"Oi, lovebirds!" George called teasingly before Harry could respond. The couple looked up, wondering if George was referring to them or one of the many other sappy couples scattered about the room. It seemed to be a general call, and George lifted his and Fred's conjoined hands to point at the clock. "It's nearly time. We're gonna go set up for the fireworks, so I suggest you come with us," he said with a grin, both of them getting to their feet. Clark and Harry shared a look, then Clark stood, pulling Harry up from where they were both leaning against the edge of the sofa. Remus stretched languidly, having been the one occupying the sofa, and Sirius raised his head from his mate's stomach blearily. "Come on, Padfoot," Remus urged, gently patting the man's leg.

Slowly, the group made their way into the large back garden, the eldest of the children having been awoken and bundled up in coats, and Fred and George were stood with their wands ready and large grins on their faces. "Why, George, love, I do believe we've outdone ourselves this year," Fred declared proudly, and George nodded.

"Yes, Fred, I do think you're right. Absolutely spectacular show we've got planned."

"Get on with it, then," Bill interrupted playfully, one arm around his wife's waist, the other holding onto his eldest daughter's hand. Their youngest was in Fleur's arms, watching with slightly sleepy eyes. Fred and George smirked at their brother, then murmured a spell in unison, and instantly a firework rocketed into the air, erupting in a shower of silver and purple sparks that lit up the night sky. Harry grinned as the display got underway, wrapping his arms around Clark's waist and leaning into the man's embrace, smiles on their faces as the next set of sparks turned to glitter as they began to fade, falling over the crowd and covering them in red and gold sparkles. Clark laughed, running a hand through Harry's hair to rid him of some of the glitter.

"Suits you," he murmured teasingly, and Harry nudged him in the ribs, before gasping as the firework formed the shape of a stunning phoenix, swooping high above the trees.

The large family watched in awe as the fireworks progressed, each more impressive than the last. Harry had to agree with the twins; they really had outdone themselves this year. Suddenly, the sparks formed a large silver 10, beginning the countdown, shortly followed by an equally large 9. The group shouted along as the numbers counted down, Harry grinning in excitement, his grip around Clark tightening, and when they finally reached zero, loud fireworks went off proclaiming 'Happy New Year!' as the group whooped and cheered, the couples leaning in for their first kiss of the new year. Harry just caught his godfathers in a firm embrace out of the corner of his eye before his own lips were covered by Clark, his lover's tongue easing between his lips and drawing a low moan from his throat. Gloved hands gripped the backs of thick coats, and eventually they pulled apart, foreheads resting against each other and grinning stupidly. "Happy New Year, gorgeous. Love you," Clark breathed, and Harry beamed at him.

"Love you, too. Happy New Year." As the couple were pounced upon by an exuberant Sirius Black, who pressed loud, sloppy kisses to their cheeks before dragging them into the huge group hug, Harry's smile never faltered, the only thought in his mind being that finally, he had a family who loved him, an amazing guy who loved him, and was completely happy with his life. There wasn't a trace of him left that believed in peoples' words from years ago of him being a freak, and he knew that Clark could say the same. They were not freaks; they weren't totally normal, but normal was overrated. Harry found himself pushed into Clark's arms once more, somehow the centre of the huddle, and he laughed breathlessly, kissing the man with as much love as he had. It was going to be a good year.


	4. Harry/Kurt/Puck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- LivingRightNow wants… 'Kurt/Harry/Puck' -

Kurt raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at Puck, arms folded over his chest, his calculating gaze fixed firmly on the mohawked teen. Puck shifted, uncomfortable under the intense stare, shooting the smaller boy a defensive glare. "I'm not backing down," he told Kurt, his voice full of false confidence. "And, lets face it, who'd pick you over me? I'm a stud," he added, flexing his guns. Kurt rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Yeah, a stud to _women_. You're a man-whore, a panty-peeler. Everyone knows that. You don't do relationships. I, on the other hand, am a strong, confident, expressive person who's fiercely loyal and a complete closet romantic, just waiting for the right guy to come sweep me off my feet. Think about it; which one would you pick for a long-term thing? You might make a good fuck, but you're not boyfriend material," Kurt sniped. Puck winced internally, his outward expression not betraying how much Kurt's words actually hurt.

"Who says he even wants boyfriend material? He could be out for just one awesome night of fun, where I'd be the better choice. I have experience, you don't," Puck retorted. Kurt snorted wryly.

"Oh, please, Noah, we both know you wouldn't be happy with one night. He's got you under his spell, just like he's got me," he said knowingly. Puck stayed quiet; they both knew Kurt was right. "So…may the best man win, I guess," Kurt added, holding out a hand to the jock. Puck shook it warily, a smirk on his face.

"Prepare to lose, princess."

.-.-.

Seeing Noah Puckerman flirting wasn't unusual, but seeing him flirting with a guy was pretty much unheard of. And he was hardly subtle about it, either. At first, most of the students thought it was a joke; a way to ruffle Kurt's feathers by pretending to want the guy the fashion-obsessed teen was clearly head-over-heels for. But then it didn't stop, and the school realised that Puck was actually serious. Even so, no one dared call him out on it – he might be gay, but he was still badass.

Kurt, on the other hand, took a less direct approach. He was already friends with Harry, being in several of his classes as well as glee club with the British student, but he made his intentions clear through a series of thoughtful gestures and coy compliments, all to prove that he would make a better boyfriend than Puck.

Harry, far too used to attention – though admittedly, more of the creepy-stalker-fangirl kind – to be bothered, allowed the flirting from both boys with a small smile and an amused look. He was well aware of how fleeting teenage crushes could be, and was expecting at least one of them to stop pursuing him in a couple of weeks, once he hadn't made a move on them. However, when both Puck and Kurt were still competing for his affections after two and a half months, he realised they were actually serious. Well, shit.

.-.-.

Harry sat on the window-seat, staring out at the starry sky, the half-moon glowing brightly, unobstructed by clouds or pollution. He was confused; he didn't know how to choose between Puck and Kurt. He liked them both equally, and could see himself quite happily in a relationship with either of them. Yes, he'd have more trouble keeping Puck from straying, but rumour had it the teen hadn't so much as kissed another person since he'd started flirting with Harry. That was impressive.

Kurt, on the other hand, was quite possibly the sweetest person Harry had met since Neville. The petite teen had a great personality, and was very easy on the eyes, though quite high maintenance. There had always been somewhat of a spark between them, from the very first day they'd sung together in glee club. He just didn't know who to choose…

"Knut for your thoughts?" The familiar voice snapped him out of his musings, and he smiled, turning his head to see Remus standing in the doorway.

"You'd be wasting your money," he replied with a slight grin, holding out an arm. Remus smiled warmly, moving towards him to sit on the window-seat beside him, wrapping his arms around his godson, allowing Harry to lean back against his chest.

"What's bothering you, cub?" he asked in concern, running a hand through Harry's jet-black hair. Harry sighed, resting his head on Remus' shoulder.

"I don't know how to choose," he admitted, and Remus frowned slightly. Harry had told him about the Puck/Kurt situation, and he'd been thinking on it over the past couple of weeks.

"Well… who says you have to? It might not be too common in this world, but in our world… you were good with the twins. Maybe you're just not meant for one person alone," he suggested tentatively. Harry's heart clenched as he thought of the twins, his beautiful, fiery twins, and he bit his lip as he felt the familiar lump in his throat. "You need to move on, Harry, we both know that. Fred and George wouldn't want you to mourn them forever. They'll always be your first loves, and there will always be a special place in your heart for them. But they wouldn't want you to be alone, we both know that." Harry nodded, blinking back tears.

"But… do you really think I could have that? With Kurt and Noah?" he asked skeptically. Remus smiled, pressing a kiss to Harry's head.

"No harm in trying, is there?" he pointed out. Harry grinned at him, twisting to hug the werewolf tightly.

"I love you, Moony, you know that?" he told him, making Remus laugh.

"Yeah, I know."

.-.-.

The next day at school, Harry cornered both Kurt and Puck, pulling them into an empty bathroom and locking the door. The two other teens looked confused, and to be fair, he couldn't exactly blame them. "Okay, you two, I know what you've been up to, and it has to stop," he told them. Kurt, now understanding what it was about, looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"That depends, have you made your choice?" he asked evenly. Harry smirked at him.

"I've made a choice. Going to need both of you to agree to it, though. It's a bit… unusual," he said vaguely. Puck shot him a look.

"Just tell us who you picked, dammit!" he urged, and Harry gave him a look.

"Both of you," he told them. Kurt and Puck both went wide-eyed, staring at him incredulously.

"Both of us?" Kurt repeated blankly, and Harry nodded.

"That's right. I can't choose between you two. Call me greedy, but I want to have my cake and eat it, too," he said with a wry smile.

"So… what? He gets you one week, I get you the next?" Kurt asked, perplexed. Harry chuckled, shaking his head.

"Not quite. I was thinking more along the lines of… simultaneously." Puck's eyes lit up in understanding, and he smirked.

"Threesome? I can get into that," he drawled, eyeing Harry then Kurt with an appreciative glance. Kurt's jaw dropped when he caught on, and he looked between Puck and Harry several times, not saying anything.

"…Okay. I'm in," he agreed. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Wow. I did not expect it to be that easy," he murmured.

"I might not have the experience, but I'm not shy. I can get used to it if it means I get you. Besides, Puck's hot, no one's denying that," Kurt pointed out. Puck smirked, sliding his arms around both Harry and Kurt's waists.

"Oh yeah, I could totally get used to this."


	5. Harry/Spencer Reid (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope Night wants... 'Harry/Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds) - Mismatched Socks' -

Harry sipped at his coffee, eyes absently scanning the other occupants of the café. The Starbucks was busy, and he'd managed to snag himself a quiet seat in the corner, the only other empty chair in the room sat beside his. It was fun, people-watching; for instance, the woman currently ordering her double espresso was dressed in a sharp skirt suit, giving disparaging glances at those around her and tapping her foot impatiently, glancing at her watch every few moments. Evidently some high-up businesswoman with an even higher opinion of herself, running late to a meeting. And the group of teenagers sat on the other side of the room were a loud, rambunctious crowd, clearly all very good friends, though from the glances one boy was sending the blonde girl opposite him, it was clear he wanted to be more. Harry couldn't help but smile to himself; oh, young love.

"Mind if I sit here?" the voice snapped into his internal musings, and he glanced up, blushing slightly.

"Not at all," he replied, gesturing for the man to take the seat beside him. The man looked relatively young, around Harry's own age, with jaw-length brown hair tucked behind his ears, and an angular yet handsome face. His top button was undone, and his tie loosened around his neck, the sleeves of his sweater and shirt rolled up to his elbows. He sat with a small sigh, cradling a mug of coffee in his hands. "I'm Harry," he introduced, feeling compelled to do so for some strange reason. The man gave a small half-smile, crossing his ankle over his knee.

"Spencer," he replied in kind, before taking a long drink of his coffee. Harry, unable to help himself, allowed his eyes to wander over the man, analyzing him.

"You're wearing mismatched socks," he noticed, after a few moments, when Spencer uncrossed and switched his legs, his trouser legs riding up slightly to reveal that while his left foot was covered in a red and white striped sock, his right foot was clad in green and blue polka-dots. Spencer raised an eyebrow at him, then nodded slightly.

"So are you," he returned, eyes on Harry's ankles where a hint of yellow rested on his left, while purple could be seen on his right. Harry grinned at him, shrugging his shoulders.

"Always am," he told Spencer, who gave him a strange look.

"So am I," he said slowly, eyeing Harry as a wide grin crossed his face.

"Y'know, Spencer, I have the sneaking suspicion that the two of us will get along smashingly."

.-.-.-.

Harry grinned as he knocked on the door of Spencer's apartment, a bag of Chinese food in one hand. The door opened, and he was greeted by the sight of the other man in nothing but a Spiderman t-shirt, black boxers and mismatched socks, his hair still rumpled from sleep and his eyes and nose slightly red and puffy. Still, he managed to smile when he saw Harry, who leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I come bearing food," he announced, holding up the Chinese food with an impish smirk. Spencer's smile widened, and he stepped back.

"I'd better let you in, then," he replied, his voice hoarse. Harry walked in, slipping his shoes off by the door, and slipped his free arm around Spencer's waist, pulling him close.

"How you feeling?" he asked against Spencer's shoulder, holding the taller man flush against his chest. He felt Spencer's cheek rest on his hair, and smiled slightly to himself.

"A lot better, thanks. Should be okay to work on Monday," he assured his lover. Harry allowed Spencer to take him by the hand, leading him through to the living room. He put the bag of Chinese on the coffee table, unloading plastic tubs of food. "I'll go get plates," Spencer offered, gently pushing Harry down to sit on the couch as he head towards the kitchen. When he returned, Harry had already turned the tv on to some medical drama, and had stripped off his sweater and shirt, leaving him in just a t-shirt and jeans. The two plated up their meals, and began to eat, Spencer curled up against Harry's side.

With both of them absolutely ravenous, it didn't take long until the only things left of their dinner were a stack of empty plastic tubs and half a packet of sweet and sour sauce. Spencer allowed Harry to maneuver then until he was laying between the green-eyed man's legs, his head on Harry's chest and the younger man's arms wrapped around him loosely, one hand absently carding through his hair. Spencer's feet were curled up against Harry's ankles, and Harry grinned to himself as he glanced down, seeing Spencer had fallen asleep. He held his lover tighter, craning his neck to press a long kiss to the man's chocolate-coloured hair. He loved cuddling with Spencer after a long day's work; it always made him relax. And as much as he hated it when Harry said it, Spencer was adorable when he was ill.

Settling down into the couch cushions with an – admittedly lovestruck - grin, he counted himself lucky that a chance meeting in Starbucks and some mismatched socks had brought him 4 months of absolute bliss, and what he was almost certain was the love of his life.


	6. Harry/Spencer Reid (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Ana wants… 'Harry/Spencer' -

"I'm gonna go grab us some drinks, alright? Just wait there, be back in a bit," Harry told Spencer, kissing him on the cheek with a small grin before braving the crowd around the bar and easing his way between people. Spencer quickly lost sight of him in the mass of people, but stood leaning against the wall with a smile on his face; he and Harry had been together for six months, and it was _incredible_. They just… fit. While Harry hadn't 'officially' moved in with him yet, he spent every night over, had his own key, and had more possessions at Spencer's place than he did at his own; Spencer was considering just getting it over with and asking him to properly move in next weekend. All in all, things were going great.

"Reid?" a familiar voice broke his thoughts, and he turned to see Hotch and Haley stood, his arm around her shoulders, eyeing him curiously. "What are you doing here? I didn't think theatre was your thing," Hotch remarked, and Spencer grinned wryly.

"There's a lot about me you don't know," he replied, his mind on the black-haired man stood barely a few feet away. He still hadn't come out to his work colleagues yet; most of them assumed he had no social life to speak of, and therefore didn't ask.

"I'm sure," Hotch retorted dryly. "But seriously, what are you doing here?" Spencer could hear the underlying 'why the hell are you at the theatre alone?' and almost rolled his eyes.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do go on dates. And it's lovely to see you, Haley," he added to the blonde, who smiled prettily at him, having been stood slightly awkwardly beforehand.

"Great to see you too," she replied in kind. Hotch was still staring at him with wide eyes.

"You're on a date? Well, I'll be damned. Where is she? I'd quite like to meet the girl with enough of a brain to keep you interested for more than five minutes," he mused with a grin, and Spencer smiled despite himself; at least Hotch was aware that it would be a person's mind he would be attracted to, not their body. Though, admittedly, Harry did have an _excellent_ body.

With timing so impeccable it had to be magic, Harry emerged from the crowd, walking towards him with two plastic cups full of rum and coke, a drink that Harry had gotten him into. Spencer sent him a discreet, pointed glance towards Hotch, and Harry raised an eyebrow; he knew who he was, he'd seen pictures. He sent a querying look at Spencer who, after a moment of thought, bit his lip and nodded his head just slightly. Harry grinned happily at him, finishing his journey to Spencer's side, passing him a cup and kissing his cheek, sliding his free arm around his lover's waist. He wasn't ashamed of their relationship, and he wanted to make it damn clear to Hotch that they were what they were. "Hey, gorgeous; who are your friends?" Harry murmured into his ear, giving an innocently curious look towards Hotch and Haley, who were staring in bewilderment at him. Spencer had to admire Harry's acting skills.

"There you are. This is one of my colleagues, Aaron Hotchner, and his wife Haley. Hotch, Haley, this is my boyfriend, Harry," he introduced smoothly. Harry held his hand out to Hotch, who shook it dazedly.

"Pleasure to meet you both; Spencer's told me about you," he replied politely, taking Haley's hand and bringing it to his lips. Again, Spencer had to resist rolling his eyes as Haley blushed, eyeing Harry speculatively.

"Wow, I love your accent, are you English?" she asked, and Harry smiled bashfully.

"Yes ma'am, born and raised. Moved over here a few years ago," he replied, still the epitome of polite.

"Well, well, Reid, I have to admire your taste. Where _did_ you find this lovely gentleman?" she questioned with a mischievous grin. Spencer shrugged, leaning further into Harry's embrace.

"Starbucks," he told her, earning a raised eyebrow.

"I have got to start going to Starbucks more often," she murmured, making Harry and Spencer share a grin.

"I… had no idea you swung that way, Reid," Hotch finally said, still looking mildly shocked. Spencer offered him a wry smile.

"Not many do. I'm not exactly out and proud, not in our profession," he added slightly grimly. While tolerance had come a long way, there were still a lot of homophobic people in the force, and he'd rather not have his sexuality bandied about the building.

"How long have you two been together?" Haley asked, seemingly having accepted that Spencer was gay without hesitance. Spencer knew there was a reason he liked her.

"Six months," Harry answered with a happy grin, squeezing Spencer tighter around the waist, slipping his hand into the other man's back pocket.

"Wait; you've been gay for six months and I've not noticed?" Hotch blurted, making Spencer laugh.

"I've been gay my whole life, Hotch. It's just now I've got someone to be gay with," he remarked dryly. Hotch flushed, looking at the floor awkwardly.

"Still, how did I not know that you were at least seeing someone? Seriously, Reid!" he said, seeming put-out that he hadn't noticed. Haley giggled, nudging him in the side.

"Oh, stop pouting. I think it's adorable. You two look good together," she told the couple sincerely, who blushed. Spencer couldn't help leaning his head against Harry's shoulder, feeling the man kiss his temple. Somehow, the idea that someone he knew was now aware of his relationship made it all the more real, definitely cementing his resolve to ask Harry to move in with him.

"Yeah… we feel good together."


	7. Harry/House (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Krynny wants… 'House/Harry - "House, you got a man pregnant"' -

Chase, Foreman and Cameron looked up as House's phone rang, and the gruff doctor's eyebrow rose as he glanced at the caller ID. Accepting the call and holding it to his ear, he winced at the loud voice coming through the phone. "I'm at work!" he protested, only to be ignored as the person on the other end kept shouting. The team couldn't make out what was being said, but it didn't sound good. "Wait… what?" House asked, eyes widening in alarm. "Now? Dammit, Harry, this is not a good time! Stay right there, I'll send Jimmy to pick you up and bring you over. I know you didn't want to be at a hospital for this, but you've not got much choice! I'll call Hermione and let her know to come over here." There was a pause as the other person spoke, and House sighed. "I know, I know. I'll make it up to you. Sit tight, don't do anything I wouldn't do!" he replied mock-cheerily, before hanging up.

"What was that all about?" Cameron asked curiously as House limped over to the door.

"Emergency. You… go do whatever it is you do when I'm not around. I've got things to take care of," he told them shortly, rapping sharply on Wilson's office door.

"We're halfway through diagnosing a patient!" Foreman protested, earning a glare.

"Good, you should be able to do the other half without me. WILSON!" he yelled when the door didn't open. "Get your ass out here! It's time, I need you to go pick him up!" The door opened halfway through his sentence, and Wilson appeared, looking panicked.

"What? But it's not supposed to be for another three weeks!" he argued, and House shot him a deadpan look.

"Look at the parents, can you honestly say you're surprised?" he retorted. Wilson smiled wryly, ducking back into his office to grab his car keys.

"Touché. I'll bring him here, then. You calling Hermione? And you'll need to let Cuddy know so we can get a room and a surgical team," he pointed out, the ducklings following as Wilson and House started down the corridor towards the elevator.

"I know. See you soon, and good luck getting him out of the house. His mom was a redhead, you know," House informed him, amused. The elevator doors closing cut off Wilson's groan, and House smirked, pulling out his phone once more and dialing a number. "Hermione!" he greeted, still in the same falsely cheerful tone. "Get your little British butt over here and get the spawn into the land of the living." There was a high-pitched squeal that caused House to push the phone away from his ear with a wince. "Yes, yes, it's all wonderful and unexpected, now can you please get down here so there's someone who knows how to perform the surgery? Great, thanks, bye." He hung up abruptly, turning on his heel and leading the team down the hall towards Cuddy's office. The woman was on the phone when House burst in, but rolled her eyes and put the person on hold.

"What do you want?" she asked flatly, giving House a glare.

"An operating room, a private room in the OB/GYN ward, and a surgical team minus the actual surgeon," House replied without missing a beat, watching with quiet glee as Cuddy's expression turned incredulous.

"Excuse me?" she asked blankly, making House look at her impatiently.

"You heard me. Preferably before Jimmy comes back; he's gone to pick him up," he told her. Her eyes went comically wide.

" _Him_?" she repeated, and House nodded, grinning.

"Yup. Congratulations, Cuddles, in a few hours you're gonna have a little mini-me crying and screaming in this very hospital. My boyfriend has gone into labour," he revealed.

"You got a man pregnant? A real, genuine man? Is he a hermaphrodite? Female-to-male transgender?" she asked, seemingly accepting the fact that House was with a man. He shook his head, looking very much like the cat that got the canary.

"Nope, genuine 100% male. Just very special," he told her, his smirk widening.

"GREGORY HOUSE, IF YOU DON'T GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME RIGHT NOW, I SWEAR I'LL NEVER HAVE SEX WITH YOU AGAIN!" a pain-filled voice shouted angrily from the corridor outside, making House wince. He turned, only to find his three underlings staring at him.

"What?" he grouched, glaring at them.

"House… you got _Harry Potter_ pregnant?" Chase asked incredulously. House raised a bemused eyebrow.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. And when that baby is out of his belly, you sir are going to explain how you know about him." House grinned wolfishly at Cuddy, who was still gaping at him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go suck up and avoid future castration. I'll be taking room 422, thanks."


	8. Harry/House (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Sabaku no Sable wants… 'Harry/House sequel' -

Thump…Thump…Thump… "For God's sake, House, would you stop that?" Wilson gave his friend an irritated glare, watching the oversized tennis ball bounce against the wall and back into the man's hands. His foot was tapping anxiously, and Wilson was amazed to see his friend actually seemed _worried_.

"How long have they been in there, anyway? Surely it's over by now!" he grumbled, glaring at the OR door. Wilson smiled slightly to himself, snatching the tennis ball from House's hands as he made for another throw.

"I'm sure everything's fine, House. Hermione's the best of the best," he assured his best friend. Suddenly, the door opened, and Hermione stepped out, smiling brightly.

"Greg? Harry's still out, but we're cleaning up the baby now. If you want to go up to the room, we'll bring them both up in a minute. Harry made it very clear he wants to be awake when you meet the baby," she added, and House groaned. Hermione was being very careful to use non-gender-specific pronouns, and it was killing him.

"Fine. Just be quick, damn it!"

.-.-.

House's head snapped up when he heard a familiar voice, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of the figures in the wheelchair being rolled towards the room. Harry was in the chair, looking slightly pale and worn-out, but with a beaming smile on his face as he stared down at the bundle in his arms. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, marveling over his family. _His own family_. He stood just as they came into the room, and Harry turned the gorgeously breathtaking smile on him. "How are you?" House asked instantly, moving to the side of the bed as Harry was assisted into it by Hermione.

"Fine, just tired. We both are. Hey, Jimmy," he added, seeing the man sat in the corner.

"Hey, Harry. So… what is it?" Wilson asked, seeing House was too in awe staring at his child. Harry smirked impishly, glancing down at the baby in his arms.

"I know you don't get them much in oncology, but it's a baby," he remarked, earning an impatient roll of the eyes.

"I mean what gender is it?" Wilson repeated urgently. Harry's smile widened, and he looked between him and House.

"Well, it looks like you two are going to have to learn to play with dolls. She's a bouncing baby girl," Harry announced, and House sucked in a breath.

"A… girl? We have a daughter?" he breathed, stunned as he stared down at the sleeping newborn. "She's beautiful." Harry beamed at him, then held out his arms.

"Would you like to hold her?" he offered. House nodded wordlessly, sitting down in the chair and allowing Harry to place the baby carefully in his arms. House felt a smile spread across his face as he watched his little girl sleep, then looked up to Harry.

"C'mere," he urged, leaning forward to meet the younger man in a kiss. "So proud of you. Love you," he murmured, and Harry smiled back.

"Love you, too. Look at her, Greg, she's… incredible," he breathed happily.

"So what are you going to name my beautiful goddaughter?" Wilson asked, grinning at the couple. House and Harry shared a glance, then nodded to each other.

"Cassiopeia Rose Potter-House. Our Cassie," Harry told him, leaning back into the pillows, smiling. Wilson grinned, moving to stand over House's shoulder.

"I like it." There was a knock on the door, and the room's occupants looked up to see Chase, Foreman and Cameron stood nervously in the doorway. Harry brightened when he saw them, eyes fixing on the blonde.

"Robbie! Merlin, it's been years! How've you been?" he asked, and Chase smiled, entering.

"Good, thanks. Clearly you've been well," he added, nodding towards House and Cassie. "Congratulations to both of you, by the way. Never would have guessed that House would be the mysterious partner who knocked up our boy saviour," he remarked wryly, leaning down to kiss Harry's cheek. Harry snickered.

"Yes, well, I've always been full of surprises," he retorted. Chase snorted.

"Very true."

"So, how do you two know each other? You've never shown any signs of having Harry's… talents, _Robbie_ ," House said, sneering playfully at the nickname.

"Oh, yeah. Robbie was in his fifth year when I joined, a beater on the Ravenclaw team. He broke both my shins in second year. And you went out with Ollie for a while in your seventh, didn't you?" Harry added, and Chase nodded.

"Yeah, how is he?" Harry grinned at that.

"He's great; married to Charlie Weasley, they've got two little boys. Twins, and just as big a troublemakers as their uncles Fred and George. Minerva's dreading the day they start at Hogwarts," he added, making the Australian laugh.

"I'll bet. I'll have to catch up on everything once you're up and out of the hospital, I've barely spoken to anyone from back there since I came out here," Chase said with a small frown. Harry nodded, and House eyed the two contemplatively.

"I'd have pegged you more as a chaser. Isn't beater a little too rough for your delicate Aussie sensibilities?" he mused mockingly. Harry snorted.

"Robbie, delicate? Tell that to the thirty-seven students he put in the hospital wing during his Hogwarts career," he muttered wryly. House raised an eyebrow at the Australian, who blushed.

"Y'know, Chase, hearing that I might just let you babysit occasionally." Chase smiled slightly at that, peering at the bundle in his boss' arms.

"I'd love to; she's gorgeous. Never thought I'd say this, but you two make cute kids," he complimented, having been part of the surgical team who helped Hermione with the Caesarian.

"She? It's a girl?" Cameron piped up for the first time; evidently her love of all things adorable outweighed her confusion at the previous conversation.

"Yup. Cassiopeia Rose Potter-House. I'm Harry, by the way. Harry Potter," Harry added, smiling at the woman.

"Bit of a mouthful, isn't it?" Foreman remarked. Chase raised an amused eyebrow at his colleague.

"Bit short, isn't it? By my count, she's missing at least three surnames. And I'm surprised there isn't another couple of middle names. Carrying on the Black tradition, though, I see?" he mused, and Harry nodded.

"Four surnames; I inherited the Dumbledore name when Albus died. And yeah, we thought about adding Faolan for Remus, but decided to save it for the next one. If we gave her any more, her name would be longer than she is!" he joked, making Chase grin.

"Fair enough."

"Wait, wait, I'm confused. How do you two know each other?" Foreman queried, looking between the two.

"We went to school together. I was four years above him, but we played against each other on the house sports teams. I'll explain later," Chase added, seeing the man looked no less confused.

"I think we'd better allow Greg and Harry some privacy, don't you?" Hermione remarked, seeing that Harry looked exhausted. Slowly, the room emptied until it was only the two new parents and their sleeping daughter, and Harry met House's eyes.

"We did good, don't you think?" he mused, grinning slightly. House stared down at their daughter, marveling at the fact that he was now responsible for such a precious being. He was a _father_! He'd never expected to have kids, not even when he'd been with Stacy. They were both so driven by their work, it just hadn't been an option. But Harry had come along and changed most of his expectations and ideas of life, so what would one more hurt?

"Yeah, we did."


	9. Harry/House (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Sabaku No Sable wants… 'Harry/House Prequel' -

House winced, glaring down at his leg as sharp spikes of pain racked the limb, making him grit his teeth. "House, when was the last time you went to PT? You know the vicodin won't help nearly as much if you don't keep up with the muscle exercises," Wilson pointed out with a worried frown. House rolled his eyes, turning his glare on his best friend.

"I don't like the physical therapist I have. He's too touchy-feely, he keeps putting his hands on me," he protested childishly.

"He's a physical therapist, it's his job to put his hands on you!" Wilson exclaimed in exasperation.

"He does it in a creepy way," House insisted. Huffing, Wilson pursed his lips, his expression showing exactly what he thought of his friend's maturity, or lack thereof.

"I've got a friend who saw a guy; he's an athlete, but he does PT, usually for sports injuries. My friend swears by him, says he's a miracle worker. I can get you his number if you like?" he offered. House frowned in thought, biting his lip.

"What kind of athlete?" he asked skeptically. Wilson shrugged.

"I don't know; soccer, or baseball, or something. I didn't ask. Do you want his number, or not?" he questioned. After thinking it over for a long moment, House nodded.

"Sure; he can't be any worse than the guy I'm seeing at the moment."

.-.-.

Rather apprehensively, House stood to answer the door as the buzzer went; it was Wilson's friend's PT guy, and House had no idea what to anticipate. He opened the door, and his eyebrows shot up; whatever he'd been expecting, this was _definitely_ not it. This guy was young, in his early twenties or so, and look more suited to being one of House's 'special massage' masseuses, rather than a genuine physical therapist. He had a lithe, muscular frame and messy jet-black hair, and the greenest eyes House had ever seen. He assumed they were coloured contacts; no one had eyes that green naturally. "Hi, I'm Harry; you must be Greg House." Oh, sweet God, he was British. Well, wasn't that the icing on the very edible-looking cake. Suddenly, House wished this guy _was_ one of his 'special massage' masseuses.

"You sure you're qualified? You look barely out of high school," he snarked as he stepped aside to let the young man in. Far from being offended, he laughed, shooting House an amused smirk.

"I promise you, Dr House, I'm qualified. Nothing like being on the receiving end for months at a time to speed up the learning process. Now; are we doing this in here, or in the bedroom?" he queried. Unable to resist, House winked.

"Well, if you wanted to play it that way, you only had to ask." Again, he only gained a laugh from the green-eyed man, and a slightly flirtatious half-smile in reply.

"I don't put out on the first appointment," he retorted without missing a beat. House grinned slightly; he liked this guy already.

"How many appointments do I have to book before you do put out?" he asked innocently. Harry snorted, following House as he led him through to the bedroom.

"Oh, at least three. Take off your pants and get on the bed," he directed with a smirk, his half-raised eyebrow challenging House to make a comment. House just gave a mocking salute, dropping his jeans without hesitation. Harry gained more points in his mental scorebook as he didn't even bat an eyelash at the mass of twisted, mangled muscle that was his thigh. "I've seen worse," he remarked lightly, eyes following House as he shuffled up the bed, leaning up against the headboard. Harry removed the satchel that was slung over his shoulder, pulling out a few unlabelled jars of various lotions and oils.

"What are they?" House asked curiously, stretching his leg out so Harry could reach it easier. Harry squirted a small amount of one of the oils on his hands, rubbing them together.

"Secret recipe," Harry replied evasively, giving House a cheeky wink.

"That's your angle? Secret magic lotions?" Harry's lips seemed to twitch at the word 'magic', but he shook his head.

"Nah; it's all in the fingers," he assured the doctor, wiggling his fingers to accompany his statement. House made to retort with some sort of innuendo, but then Harry began to massage his thigh, and all that came out was a low, pleasure-filled groan.

"Damn, you're not kidding," he murmured, and Harry smirked.

"Just sit back and relax. You'll feel better when I'm done, I promise." House didn't doubt that, for once allowing himself to relax back into the pillows as Harry worked his thigh with skilled hands. He jolted slightly when Harry switched to one of the lotions, and the cool substance was spread over his skin. With a start, he felt himself starting to become aroused by the ministrations, and held back a throaty moan as Harry kneaded a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

"Enjoying yourself?" Harry asked, amused, his eyes fixed on the growing tent at the front of House's boxers. House didn't give him the satisfaction of blushing, meeting his eyes boldly.

"You'll find out on the third appointment, won't you?" he retorted with a smirk.

"You're awfully sure of yourself," Harry remarked, massaging a little deeper into the muscle. "You've got to get through the second appointment first."

"I think I can manage." The two fell into an easy silence, and House was startled out of his thoughts when Harry removed his hands, wiping them on a towel. "Done already?" he asked, and Harry gave him a look.

"Already? It's been nearly an hour. Time flies," he added with a wry grin. Reluctantly, House moved to stand, only to find that he wasn't nearly in as much pain as he usually was.

"Whoa. You're good," he declared, and Harry chuckled.

"That's what they all say," he replied with a wink. "Now, how about that second appointment?"

"How about we skip the second appointment and you have dinner with me tonight?" House asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Harry gave him an 'are you serious?' look, then smirked.

"Wow, you really _are_ sure of yourself."

"I've got a lot to be sure about. Pick you up at eight?" House half-asked, half-told him. Harry gave him a smile, leaning in and kissing him shortly, his tongue just barely swiping over House's lower lip before pulling away, leaving him wanting more. Giving him a fleeting smile, Harry winked.

"Drive that motorbike in the driveway, and it's a date."


	10. Harry/Ten/Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope Night wants… 'Harry/Ten/Eleven (Doctor Who)' -

The TARDIS shuddered to an abrupt halt, letting out an odd wailing noise that was definitely not the norm. Harry grabbed frantically at the rail just in time to stop himself from falling to the floor as the floor jolted. The Doctor swayed, an alarmed look on his face as he pulled levers and pressed buttons. "Doctor, what's happening?" Harry yelled over the noise, staring at the man, who shrugged helplessly.

"Not a clue; but isn't it fun?" Harry rolled his eyes at the man's exuberant grin; yes, once you got over the 'holy crap, we're all going to die' feeling, it was great fun. He chanced letting go of the rail, his terrible luck and timing meaning that he did so exactly as the TARDIS gave a great lurch, sending him careening into the Doctor, knocking them both to the floor. The movement of the TARDIS slowed to a jerky halt, and the two men on the floor panted slightly with exhilaration, stupidly large grins on both their faces. Harry was on top of the Doctor, their chests pressed together, legs twined awkwardly. The Doctor laughed breathlessly, his eyes meeting Harry's. "Y'know, I wouldn't be surprised if she planned that just to get you on top of me," he grumbled playfully, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Harry snickered, sliding his hands up under the man's tweed jacket, lightly gripping the dark red braces.

"We both know she doesn't need to plan that," he retorted, pressing his lips against the other man's. The Doctor hummed in pleasure, deepening the kiss, his hands clasping Harry's hips tightly, thumbs brushing the strip of tanned skin where his t-shirt had ridden up.

"Whoa! Who the hell are you, and why are you snogging in my TARDIS?" The two sprung apart, alarmed, which only resulted in Harry whacking his head on the underside of the TARDIS console.

"Ouch! Bollocks," he grumbled, glaring up at the man who had interrupted them. His eyebrows rose; Merlin, the man was gorgeous. He was tall, with an angular face and _really_ great hair. He was dressed, oddly enough, in a brown pinstriped suit, brown greatcoat, blue shirt and tie, and bright red converses.

"Your TARDIS? This is my TARDIS!" the Doctor argued, not looking at the man as he gave Harry a concerned glance. "You alright there, green-eyes?" he murmured, cupping Harry's head gently.

"Yeah, fine. Who the bloody fuck is he?" Harry asked, waving off the timelord's concern and gesturing to the tall stranger. The Doctor frowned, turning, and his jaw dropped when he spotted the man.

"Oh." Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, what's 'oh' supposed to mean? D'you know him?" he questioned. The two men were still staring at each other; one gaping, one utterly perplexed.

"He's me. Well, he was me. He's the me I was before I was… me," the Doctor babbled, and Harry's eyes widened.

"He's number Ten? Bloody hell, you didn't tell me your previous incarnation was so gorgeous!" he exclaimed, eyeing the man appreciatively. Knowing that the other man was technically his lover made him feel less guilty about eyeing him up. Both Doctors looked at him, eyes wide.

"Wait, what?" they yelped in unison, Ten staring between Harry and Eleven with impossibly huge eyes.

"You're… me? You're me after I'm me? And you're snogging Harry Potter?" he demanded; Harry wasn't surprised he had been recognized, the same thing had happened the first time he'd met the Doctor.

"What do you mean he's gorgeous? Yes, I was incredibly dashing back then, but… I'm better-looking now, right?" Eleven whined, making Harry chuckle and kiss him on the lips.

"Of course you are, love. Though he is _very_ hot. Loving the geek-chic look, by the way. Are all your previous incarnations as handsome as he is, or is that one just special?" he asked. Eleven made an indignant noise, glaring at him.

"Are you quite finished mentally undressing my previous self?" he exclaimed, affronted.

"Wait, wait, hang on a minute. Not that it isn't flattering – and also mildly disturbing – but… how did this happen?" Ten interrupted, looking between the two as if searching for answers in their expressions. "Wow, love what you've – I've – done with the place!" he admired, staring in awe at the new TARDIS interior.

"Well, I was travelling a bit after the war, and I ran into this clown during a little scuffle with some Atraxi in Finland, and then-"

"Not that! While I'm sure it's a great story, I was asking more along the lines of how did I get here?" Ten cut him off. Harry frowned, shrugging.

"Oh, that. No idea. Doctor?" Eleven shook his head, looking just as clueless as his previous incarnation.

"Not a dickie-bird. But I'm sure it'll right itself eventually. Usually does. Just a matter of finding something to do in the mean time," he mused. Harry smirked, eyeing the two with a predatorial gaze.

"Let's have sex," he suggested, voice completely serious. Two pairs of eyebrows rose simultaneously, and his smirk widened.

I knew I shouldn't have introduced you to Jack," Eleven groaned, rolling his eyes. "Are you serious? You want to have sex with me and… me?" Harry nodded, reaching out to absently play with the Doctor's bow tie.

"Yeah; you're gorgeous, both yous. And this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I'm not going to pass up," he added with a roguish wink. Eleven sighed contemplatively, then smiled back at his lover.

"Yeah, alright then," he agreed, standing up and pulling Harry to his feet. Ten's eyes went – if possible – even wider, and his gaze darted between the two in bewilderment.

"What? You're _agreeing_?" he exclaimed incredulously. Eleven shrugged, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

"Yes, well… once Harry has an idea, it's very hard to sway him from it, and I'm going to be the one who has to live with him after this; I'm not having him nagging me about missed opportunities from here to the end of the universe. Besides, he's right. You _are_ gorgeous," he told the other man, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Harry snorted.

"You are _such_ a narcissist," he muttered, earning an elbow to the ribs. He moved forward, away from Eleven's side, placing a gentle hand on Ten's waist. The timelord jumped, but didn't move away from the touch. "Come on, Doctor; I know you find me attractive, because _he_ finds me attractive. And you can't not find him attractive, he's bloody marvelous," he added with a grin. "You'll never see me or him again until you _are_ him, and by that time, this won't matter. What's stopping you?" As he spoke, he moved closer to the other man, sliding his greatcoat off his shoulders and letting it slump to the floor. Hands on the man's thin chest, he could feel the double heartbeat racing wildly against his palms, and his trousers tightened dramatically.

"Nothing," Ten breathed, pupils large as he bridged the gap between them, pressing his lips against Harry's, moving his knee between the wizard's legs to give him some friction. The two moaned loudly, Harry's arousal only increasing as Eleven came up behind him, grinding against him.

"Bedroom," he gasped, mentally praying that the TARDIS would be on his side and move it as close as possible. He was in luck; the first door they stumbled through led to their bedroom, and the three fell on the bed in a tangle of limbs, hands grasping at skin and tearing at clothes. Harry twitched his fingers, wandlessly removing their clothes, and let out a loud moan as bare flesh finally met bare flesh.

Merlin, he loved dating a Time Lord.


	11. Harry/Bill Weasley (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Nightfairy79 wants… 'Harry/Bill' -

Harry sighed happily as he realised where he was, still half-asleep. He snuggled deeper into the warmth of the body beside him, burying his head into the taller man's broad shoulder. Long, muscular arms were draped around him protectively, and there was a solid chest under his cheek, smattered with freckles and fine, dark red hair. This was the one thing he loved about Christmas; Bill was home. He didn't get to see his redheaded lover very often – while Bill was based in England now due to the war, he still worked a lot, and was frequently sent on missions for the Order. Dumbledore didn't dare send any of the Weasleys away over Christmas, too afraid of incurring the wrath of Molly Weasley.

"Mmm?" Bill hummed, his voice husky with sleep, chest rumbling under Harry's head. "What time izzit?" he murmured. Harry twitched a finger, performing a wandless Tempus charm.

"Ugh, half nine," Harry groaned, rolling further into Bill's embrace, practically on top of the man.

"Mum'll want us up soon. She'll send someone to wake us," Bill pointed out with a sigh, his crystal blue eyes a little less fogged as he began to wake up properly. Molly had decided that Ron's room was now far too small for him, Harry, and the twins to all fit in comfortably, and as such had moved Harry into Bill and Charlie's room. This worked out perfectly for the two lovers, and for Charlie, who was happy to leave them alone and apparate to his lover's house every evening. Charlie and the twins were the only Weasleys who definitely knew of Bill and Harry's relationship, though the pair were quite sure Arthur knew more than he was letting on.

Harry grumbled half-heartedly, but leaned up to accept a good-morning kiss nonetheless. Bill slid a hand up his back, pulling him close and deepening the kiss with a moan. Harry moved until he was on top of Bill, straddling him at the waist, their arousals grinding together hotly. "We haven't got time," Bill protested between kisses, and Harry groaned. "We'll be caught."

"Nah, she'll send Charlie or the twins to get us," Harry insisted, hands gripping at Bill's hips. "Fuck, I need you," he hissed, mouth hovering over the dark purple lovebite at Bill's collar bone from the night before. So caught up in their passion, neither of them heard the door open.

"Harry, Bill, mum wants you – AHH! Sweet Merlin, my eyes!" Ron screamed, jaw agape as Harry and Bill froze. Thankfully, the duvet was still covering their most private parts, but they were still bared from the waist down, showing the numerous lovebites and marks, as well as the red nail-marks running down Harry's back. Harry removed his lips from Bill's neck, his face as red as his boyfriend's hair.

"…Hi, Ron…" he greeted false-cheerily. Ron's expression looked somewhere between disturbed, horrified, and mildly constipated.

"Harry…" Ron began slowly.

"Ron…" Harry replied in turn, voice wary. Bill's hand slipped into his squeezing it reassuringly.

"Is there any particular reason you're naked on top of my oldest brother?" Ron asked in the same strained, casual tone.

"Well… I suppose because I'm in love with your oldest brother, and have been dating him for two and a half years," Harry replied, wincing as he said it. Ron's expression immediately turned furious.

"Two and a half years? Two and a half BLOODY years and you never thought to tell your best mate? And Bill, what the fuck? Harry is TEN YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU! He's only seventeen! Wait… he was fifteen when you got together? What in the name of Merlin's saggy right bollock were you thinking?" he exclaimed angrily. Harry bit his lip, half-hiding his face in Bill's chest. So much for keeping it secret; he wouldn't be surprised if the whole village hadn't heard that yell. The other occupants of the house were bound to have heard.

"Ron, please, calm down," Bill began, only to be cut off by his youngest brother.

"Don't you DARE tell me to calm down, William Weasley! He was fifteen fucking years old when you took advantage of him! My best mate!"

"Oi!" Harry interrupted, irritated. "This isn't Bill's fault; I went after him. He barely even agreed to date me; we didn't go past kissing until I'd turned sixteen! Everything we did was legal, Ron. And as for why we didn't tell you; we knew you'd react like this!" By this time, the rest of the Weasleys had gathered in the doorway, having heard the racket. Harry blushed brighter, well aware of his and Bill's nakedness under the duvet.

"Please, Ron. I love Harry; I would never dare hurt him. And I'd really appreciate it if you supported us in this, because there's going to be a lot of people who won't." They all knew how true that was; the tabloids would have a field day with this. "All of you. You might not like it now, but Harry and I will be perfectly happy to answer any questions you have, just so long as you don't shout at us," he added calmly, meeting the eye of every person in the doorway. Charlie gave him an apologetic look, nudging past Percy and Ron and into the room.

"Sorry, guys, we tried to have mum send one of us up," he said, gesturing to the twins. He picked up two pairs of boxers from the floor, chucking them over to the couple. Harry smiled gratefully, wiggling into them underneath the duvet.

"No problem, you tried," Bill replied, putting his own underwear on. Ron spluttered, rounding on Charlie and the twins.

"You knew?" he cried indignantly.

"We can keep secrets. And we don't judge," Charlie replied smoothly, giving his little brother an icy look.

"Alright, you, sod off. Let the poor blokes get dressed in peace," Fred urged, looking at Ron, Ginny and Percy. Hermione was spending Christmas with her parents. When it was just the two Weasley parents in the doorway, Bill sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"Mum, Dad, I-" he trailed off, sighing. "I love him. That's really all there is to it," he declared. Arthur smiled warmly at him, while Molly still looked to be in mild shock.

"We know, son. I have to say; I've suspected for a while now," he admitted, confirming their own suspicions. "So long as you're both happy, I wish you all the very best. You're right, there will be lots of people who won't like your relationship, but your family is behind you both, and I'm sure your friends will be, too."

"You're… you're being… safe, aren't you?" Molly piped up in concern. Bill groaned, covering Harry's ears.

"Oh, Merlin, I am not hearing this," he moaned. "Yes, mum, we're being safe. We use protection, we both get tested regularly, and neither of us has been with anyone but each other since this relationship began. You don't need to worry," he assured her, cringing.

"Well, good. I'm just checking, okay! I worry about you both!" she insisted. Harry removed Bill's hands from his ears, giving his boyfriend's mother a smile.

"We know, Molly. And can I just say; Bill is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Please don't take him away from me?" he pleaded, sounding incredibly innocent and scared. Bill frowned, wrapping his arms around his smaller lover, kissing him softly.

"I'm not going anywhere," he declared fiercely, eyes daring his parents to argue. Molly rolled her eyes, sending him a look that told him he was being an idiot.

"Don't be daft, of course I'm not going to split you two up! Oh, I've always hoped you'd become one of the family for real, Harry! Have you thought about marriage, yet?"

"MUM!" Bill groaned loudly, hiding in Harry's hair as the green-eyed teen laughed, unsure if she was serious or not.

"What? The future is very important, you know!"

And thus, order was restored.


	12. Harry/Bill Weasley (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Hendrick248848 wants… 'Harry/Bill sequel' -

Harry sipped at his hot chocolate, cradling the mug between his hands. Snow was falling thick and fast outside the window, but none of them wanted to go out in it; they'd spent the better part of the day playing out in the snow, and they were all wet, cold and exhausted. Molly had ushered them in as the sky started to go dark, rolling her eyes and putting the kettle on the stove. Grinning slightly, Harry leaned back into the strong chest behind him, feeling the arm around his waist squeeze gently. "I will never, ever be too old for that. If I ever say I am; hex me," Bill murmured into Harry's ear, making the younger man snicker.

"I will if you do the same for me. It'll be a sad day when I say I've outgrown snowball fights," he said, shaking his head mock-mournfully. Bill's lips ghosted over his jaw, and Harry smiled wider, snuggling into Bill's embrace. Having been told to stay inside for the rest of the evening, the twins had immediately taken it upon themselves to be the entertainment, bringing down some of their untested products from their bedroom. After assuring Molly they were completely safe, they handed them out to everyone, and they all had a good laugh as the effects took hold. Somehow they managed to angle it that Ron got the more extreme sweets, even going so far as to turn him into a purple hedgehog for ten minutes. Eventually, they had begged out of testing any more products, and settled down to play some exploding snap and wizard's chess. Bill and Harry retreated to their favourite spot on the squashy sofa in the corner, and amused themselves with watching Ron beat Hermione at chess, something the witch wasn't taking very well.

"Y'know, I could get used to this whole 'being out' thing. Especially if it means I get to cuddle up with you like this and no one cares," Bill said quietly, pulling Harry further onto his lap. Harry grinned at him.

"That mean you're willing to come out to the rest of the wizarding world? I could owl Luna, we could get an interview with the Quibbler, get the truth out before the Prophet can write some horrible piece about you being a cradle-snatcher or something," he suggested. Bill pursed his lips thoughtfully, falling silent for a moment, before kissing Harry's temple.

"I'm happy to if you are, love. I'm just worried about what people would say about you. I couldn't give a rat's arse what they'd say about me, but I'm afraid I might have to throttle anyone who says a bad word about you," he told him simply. Harry snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Have you read the Prophet lately? They'll spout crap about me regardless of whether I'm gay, straight or whatever. I'm tired of having to pretend that I'm not seeing anyone, and act like I'm not completely head-over-heels in love with you. I'll send the owl to Luna next weekend; let her have the Christmas holidays interrupted. Especially as Neville told me he's planning on proposing at New Years," he added with a happy grin. Bill raised an eyebrow at him.

"Is he? Good on him, they're a brilliant couple. I'll assume they'll wait to get married until after she's left school, though?" he presumed, and Harry nodded.

"When are you going to make an honest man out of me, hmm?" he asked playfully, poking Bill in the stomach. Bill recoiled away, grinning.

"Who says I had any intention of marrying you at all, Potter? I rather like being just your boyfriend." Harry's expression faltered slightly, and Bill rolled his eyes, pecking him on the lips. "I'm kidding, you daft sod. Telling you when would ruin the surprise, but I promise that this time next year we'll be engaged. Well, so long as you say yes," he added with a small smile, and Harry smiled back, eyes alight at the thought of marrying Bill.

"I'll have to think about it," he joked, and Bill growled teasingly, pushing Harry off his lap and pinning him to the sofa, straddling his legs and holding himself above the younger Gryffindor.

"I'll give you thinking about it," he challenged, hands moving to tickle Harry's sides. Harry squirmed under him, laughing breathlessly, trying in vain to escape.

"Stop! Mercy!" he begged, his voice coming in gasps of laughter.

"Oi, lovebirds!" Charlie interrupted bemusedly, tossing a squashy wrapped present at Bill's head. Stopping his assault, the eldest Weasley sibling turned to look at his brother, who was grinning at him fondly. "One present on Christmas Eve, as always. Catch, Harry," he added, throwing another box-shaped, brightly wrapped gift. Harry, star seeker for Gryffindor seven years running and Quidditch Captain for a reason, caught the small box easily, smiling in thanks at his pseudo-brother.

"Thanks, Char. Merry Christmas," he added with a grin. Charlie gave him a small salute, before diving into his own present, struggling with the masses of spellotape holding the wrapping paper in place. Harry looked at Bill, who was still straddling his hips, holding a hand-made patchwork quilt, and a small white baby-gro, as well as his annual Weasley Jumper. He turned to his parents, who were smiling innocently at him across the room.

"Are you two trying to tell us something?" he asked, holding up the baby-gro with raised eyebrows. Harry stifled a laugh, and Molly smiled at her son.

"Well, Harry is graduating in a few months, and you two would make such wonderful parents! I only wanted to put the thought in your minds," she insisted, and Harry gave her a small grin.

"The thought is already there, Molly, I assure you. We're going to stop using protection once I graduate; from then on, what happens, happens," he told her, squeezing Bill's hand. She beamed at him as if he'd just fulfilled all her dreams, and Harry thought that Arthur's hand on her arm was the only thing stopping her from bolting across the room and giving both of them rib-cracking hugs.

Harry looked down at his own present, reading the tag; it was from Bill. Harry gave his lover a small grin, carefully undoing the wrapping paper, fully aware of everyone's eyes on him, and Bill's apprehensive look. Heart thumping loudly in his chest as he took in the size and shape of the present, he took off the wrapping paper to reveal a simple black velvet box. Letting out a soft gasp, his eyes flicked up to Bill, wide in astonishment. "Is this going to be what I think it is?" he asked quietly. Bill merely smirked fleetingly at him, sliding off of Harry's legs and onto the floor, getting to one knee as he took the dark-haired teen's hand in his own.

"I was going to give it to you in private, but then this morning happened, and, well… I thought the rest of the family might want to see this. Go on; open it," he urged quietly, nodding towards the back. With shaking fingers, Harry undid the clasp of the box, sucking in an awed breath at the sight of the platinum ring nestled in the centre of the cushion. It was simple, with a single star-shaped emerald in the centre, and Harry loved it. "So, what do you say? Make me even happier than you've made me these past two and a half years and marry me?" he asked hopefully. Harry nodded wordlessly, too stunned to speak, and Bill beamed, carefully sliding the ring onto Harry's finger.

"Merlin, Bill… how long have you had this planned?" he asked, staring admiringly at the ring on his finger. Bill cupped his cheek, leaning up to kiss him tenderly.

"I bought the ring the day after your seventeenth birthday. I've just been waiting for the right opportunity to use it." Suddenly, he grinned, stroking Harry's cheek. "I did tell you that this time next year we'd be engaged; hell, who knows? If we're quick, we might even be married by then," he pointed out. Harry beamed at him, finally losing his restraint and launching himself at the redhead, pressing a long kiss to his lips as the Weasleys and Hermione cheered and wolf-whistled. Merlin, he loved this family.


	13. Harry/Booth (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Krynny wants… 'Harry/Booth (Bones) - "Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"' -

Harry smirked to himself as he sidled casually through the doors of the Jeffersonian, walking confidently up to the security guards. "Excuse me, sir," the guard began, and Harry flashed him his ID. "Yes, of course, right this way, Dr. Black," he insisted, an abashed look on his face as he gestured for Harry to walk through.

"Thank you," he replied with a grin, strolling through the walkway and allowing the automatic doors to part in front of him, giving him entry into the main lab. His eyes wandered curiously around the area, eyeing the artifacts with interest. He turned a corner, and saw through glass doors the raised platform upon which the 'squint squad', as Seeley liked to call them, did most of their work. He swiped his ID at the door, grinning as it bleeped and allowed him access. Heads turned at the sound, and eyebrows raised at his entrance.

"Well hello there," an attractive Asian woman drawled, a devilish glint in her eye as she hopped off the desk and moved to stand at the head of the stairs. "And who might you be?" Harry grinned, winking at her.

"Dr Harry Black; I'm Dr Brennan's new intern. And might I have a name for such a pretty face?" he replied easily, making her giggle as she came down the steps to meet him.

"Ooh, your accent is fantastic! Bren sure picked herself a good one. I'm Angela Montenegro, the profile artist around here." Harry took her hand kissing the back of it with a slight bow.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Montenegro. I look forward to working with you," he replied charmingly.

"It's Mrs, actually. I'm her husband, Dr Jack Hodgins," Hodgins cut in sharply, standing at Angela's side with a protective glare. Harry gave him an easy smile, trying to look as non-threatening as possible towards Angela, who was rolling her eyes at her husband.

"Ignore him, he's an ass. And call me Angela," she insisted. "Cam – Dr Saroyan, the big boss – should be around here somewhere. You'll meet Sweets – Dr Sweets, the psychologist – sooner or later, and as for Dr Brennan… her and Booth – her FBI partner – should be back any minute now, they've gone to a crime scene," she explained. Harry smothered his grin at Seeley's name, rocking on the balls of his feet in excitement.

"Brilliant. So… where do I start?"

.-.-.

It was, in fact, nearly half an hour before Brennan and Booth returned, during which time Harry had been introduced to both Cam and Sweets, and been given a tour of the lab. Hodgins was still slightly icy with him, but Harry was sure he'd get the man to warm up to him eventually.

He was stood on the platform eyeing a skeleton contemplatively when the doors bleeped, and a large smirk crossed his face as he met Seeley's eyes. The FBI agent's expression instantly morphed to one of utter shock, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. "Hello, you," Harry called casually, taking the steps two at a time to stop in front of the man, still smirking.

"Harry… I… what the hell are you doing here?" Seeley stuttered, staring at the shorter man. Harry grinned impishly, shrugging one shoulder.

"Did I forget to mention I applied for the job? Oops," he answered, not sounding sorry at all. He leaned up to wrap his arms around the man's neck, hugging him tightly. "Ooh," he murmured, "is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" Seeley blushed wildly, not answering as he pushed Harry away gently. "Oh, don't be like that, sweetheart. You should expect that much from me," he pointed out roguishly.

"You two know each other?" Angela's voice cut in, surprised. Harry turned to face her, and nodded.

"Oh, yes. Seeley and I know each other _very_ well indeed," he said, a slight drawl to his voice.

"And you are?" Brennan interrupted blankly, eyeing Harry with a curious gaze.

"Dr Harry Black, your new intern. Pleasure to meet you, apologies for not introducing myself before jumping on Seeley, but it had to be done," he said with a grin.

"I still can't believe you got the job," Seeley murmured, and Harry elbowed him in the side.

"Oh, suck it up, love. Just because we're going to be working together for the foreseeable future," he teased. Seeley grinned, reaching out to snake an arm around Harry's neck in a loose, mock-headlock.

"I'll never be rid of you; first you invade my home, then my work… what's next, my brain?" he joked. Harry winked.

"One step at a time, love," he retorted.

"Okay, okay, back up a little… just how do you two know each other, exactly?" Angela interrupted, glancing at the pair speculatively. Seeley gave a wry smile.

"Long story short, we've been together for… oh, how long?"

"You know as well as I do it's been nearly five years, prat," Harry told him, thumping him on the chest before pressing a short kiss to his lips. Angela's eyes went comically wide.

"Like, together, together? Wow, that's… so, totally hot," she murmured, and Harry snickered.

"Glad you approve. Our relationship won't be a problem, will it? Because if it is, I can quit now and save you the trouble of assessing me," he said frankly. Brennan looked at him, perplexed.

"Angela and Hodgins are married, and they still work here; why would your relationship with Booth be a problem?" she queried. Harry grinned, squeezing Seeley around the waist.

"Brilliant. Now," he said, turning to Hodgins. "Still worried I'll steal away with your wife?"


	14. Harry/Booth (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Otakufanlover wants… 'Harry/Booth' -

Harry leant into Seeley's arm, grinning as he sipped at his beer. The team had decided to go for drinks to celebrate closing Harry's first case. They'd been out for an hour, and were already quite tipsy. Seeley smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Congrats, babe. You're officially part of the team," he murmured, his hand squeezing the younger man's thigh.

"Thank you. Have I mentioned how sexy you look when you're interrogating suspects?" Harry drawled, bringing a raised eyebrow from his lover.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. You have no idea how hard it was for me to not have you over that desk earlier. Too fucking hot, love," he breathed, smirking.

"Did you have to tell me that now, when we're in the middle of something?" Seeley groaned under his breath, glancing around at their colleagues, who were laughing at a joke Angela had made. The Asian woman had had twice the amount of alcohol as everyone else, and it was showing. Harry winked at him, his hand ghosting over the crotch of Seeley's jeans, which was suspiciously tight.

"Just… keep it in mind for when we get home," he told him with a devious grin.

"Ooh! Ooh!" Angela cried, slamming her hand on the table and pointing at the couple. "I've been meaning to ask you! How did you two get together? I bet it was hot! Was it hot?" Harry grinned at her, his fingers twining loosely with Seeley's.

"Sorry to disappoint, but it was actually pretty tame. See, I was twenty and still in college, and Seeley was with the FBI, and one of the girls in my anthropology class went missing…"

.-.

*Flashback*

Harry leant his back against the wall as he stood in line with the rest of his class, preparing to have their fingerprints taken. Shifting his feet nervously, he ran a hand through his hair, before staring at it. His fingertips were a mess of silvery scars, and he knew that wouldn't sit well with the FBI. "Next," the man called, and Harry sat down in the chair, hesitantly raising his eyes, only to meet a guarded smile and calculating brown eyes. "Name, please?" the man asked politely, taking Harry's hand.

"Hadrian Black. But it's Harry," he added, allowing the man to press his fingers to the ink. "Look, you're going to have a problem with my prints," he started, only to gain a raised eyebrow. The man really was quite attractive; if they'd met under different circumstances, he'd definitely be interested.

"Oh yeah? Got a record?" Harry smiled wryly, shaking his head. He didn't have a record in this world, at least. He knew for a fact his record in the halls of the Ministry of Magic was approximately two feet thick, and needed its own drawer.

"No, but…" He pulled his fingers away, revealing prints that were nothing but a mass of straight lines, wiggling his inky fingers towards the FBI agent. "Scars. Someone would have said something if the prints you got at the scene were messed up as much as mine are," he pointed out. The man smirked, but Harry could tell he was itching to ask about the scars.

"You're smart," the man noted neutrally, and Harry matched his smirk.

"I'm top of my class," he replied in a similar tone. "And if you're looking for a lead on Katelyn's disappearance, talk to Scott Olsen. He's been looking pretty shifty since you guys started sniffing around, and not the usual 'failed a drugs test' kind of shifty. I reckon he's your man." The man's eyebrow rose even higher at that, an intrigued light coming into his dark eyes.

"Oh you do, do you? Well, thanks for the tip. If you've got any more information, give me a call," he urged, passing Harry a business card. Harry smirked, nodding and rising from his seat.

"Will do, Special Agent Booth," he agreed, glancing at the name on the card.

.-.-.

That evening, Harry was back in his flat, staring at his phone contemplatively, the Special Agent's card between his fingers. It couldn't hurt to try, could it?

_'I don't have any more info, but what if I just want to ask you out for a drink?'_

Pressing send, he propped his feet up on the coffee table, glancing over at the sleek green and silver guitar on the stand in the corner, smirking. He was such a Slytherin at heart. His phone buzzed, and his smile widened as he read the reply.

_'When I've closed this case? You're on.'_

*End Flashback*

.-.

"So he closed the case three days later – it was Olsen, I was right – and we went for a drink at this awesome bar. One drink turned into several, and the next thing I knew I was waking up in his apartment and staying for breakfast," Harry finished, smiling ruefully.

"Best case of my life," Seeley agreed, squeezing Harry's hand.

"Awww, you guys are too cute! Jack, why don't we have a cute story like that?" Angela asked, rounding on her husband.

"I married you in a jail cell because I didn't want to wait any longer to call you mine, is that not cute enough?" the man exclaimed in reply, making Harry snicker.

"I think we'd better get going. We've still got work tomorrow, and if I stay any longer I'll be tempted to steal Angela's tequila," he remarked, nodding towards the half-empty bottle on the table. Seeley nodded, standing, and the two of them sidled out of the booth, grinning at their half-drunk companions.

"G'night, guys," he called with a wave, wrapping his arm possessively around Harry's waist. Hearing various 'goodnight's called in reply, the two left the bar, stepping out into the cold evening. Harry grabbed Seeley by his belt loops, dragging him into an alley beside the bar and apparating them on the spot, landing in their bedroom. "God, I love magic," Seeley groaned, his lips against Harry's, and Harry smirked.

"I thought you might. Now, let me show you what I wanted to do to you back in interrogation," he drawled huskily in Seeley's ear, palming his cloth-covered crotch, causing him to cry out.

"You. Are. The. _Best_!" Seeley gasped, making Harry chuckle lowly in his ear.

"Oh, I know. So shut up and fuck me, gorgeous."


	15. Harry/Chris Halliwell/Wyatt Halliwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Felawred wants… 'Harry/Wyatt/Chris (Charmed) - Power of Three' -

The first thing Harry noticed when he woke up was an explosion of chatter; people were shouting and calling questions all around him, all underlined by quick conversations and frantic whispers. He kept his eyes shut, hoping to fake sleep for a few more minutes as he mentally assessed himself. He didn't seem to be missing any limbs, which was good. However, his ribs were in agony, and from the heavy numbness surrounding his left leg, he assumed it was broken. Other than that, he didn't seem too badly hurt. A fierce panic gripped him as he wondered if everyone else had been as lucky as he was; what if someone he loved was hurt badly, or dead? Heart thudding against aching ribs, he willed himself to calm, slowly opening his eyes with a soft groan as if only just waking. Immediately, the area around him hushed, and he saw several blurry figures sat around his bedside, framed by glaring white. The hospital wing, then; he should have guessed as much.

His glasses were placed in the bridge of his nose, the metal cold against his skin, and he blinked at the world adjusted and his vision cleared. "Thanks," he rasped, realizing for the first time that his throat was incredibly dry. As if reading his mind, the end of a straw was placed against his lips, and he sucked on it, relishing in the cool water trickling down his throat. He managed a weak smile, his eyes meeting concerned hazel.

"Hey, you," Chris murmured, easing the straw away from Harry's lips and setting the glass on the bedside table. "How you feeling?"

"Fine," Harry replied dismissively. "How is everyone? Wyatt?" he asked quickly. Chris chuckled, and Harry knew then that Wyatt was okay.

"He's fine, just sleeping. Poppy's been making me and him take shifts so we get some sleep every now and then," he explained, looking over to one side. Harry followed his gaze, letting out a small sigh of relief as he saw Wyatt's sleeping form on the bed beside him.

"What about everyone else? How long have I been out?" he continued. Looking around, he noticed the other people sat around his bed. Remus was there, as were Ron and Hermione, all the Weasleys bar Percy and Bill, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Hagrid.

"Two days. And most of us are fine; Poppy's healed the worst of things. Tonks is still out, and Kingsley's still recovering from some spell damage, but… other than a few casualties – later, Harry – we came out surprisingly well. Thanks to you three," Remus added, gesturing to Harry, Chris and Wyatt. Harry smiled wryly.

"Least I could do," he replied, and Remus rolled his eyes. "Where's Bill? And Percy?" he queried, noticing the shortage of redheads.

"At work. The Ministry's been going insane about all this, and the goblins called Bill in to help sort through the inheritance vaults from the dead Death Eaters. Some of the items have Merlin knows what curses on them," Ginny said with a grim smile. Harry allowed himself to relax knowing that everyone was safe. Hermione stood from Ron's lap, walking over to Wyatt's bed and gently reaching out to shake his shoulder. The blonde blinked away dazedly, but quickly became alert upon realizing where he was.

"He's awake," Hermione told him, and in a split second he was up and at Chris' side, taking both their hands in his own.

"Oh, thank God you're okay," he breathed, and Harry smiled at him.

"Hey, yourself. Would someone mind…" he trailed off, gesturing to the bed, and Professor McGonagall gave him a small half-smile, waving her wand to enlarge the bed. Chris and Wyatt wasted no time in scrambling up, getting comfortable with Harry in the middle. Wyatt wrapped his arms around him, burying his nose in Harry's dark hair.

"You scared the shit out of me, babe," he murmured, and Harry leant into his embrace.

"Sorry, love," he replied softly, loving the comfort of the two familiar, warm bodies at his sides. "How come I felt it the worst? I mean, it was the Power of Three, right?" he questioned, and Chris nodded.

"Yes, but the power went through your connection to Voldemort, so it took more out of you than it did us. We were still out for just over a day, though," he answered. At that moment, Madame Pomfrey came along, not batting an eyelash at the sight of the three teens in one enlarged hospital bed.

"Oh, good, Mr Potter, you're awake," she declared, fussing around his bed for a few moments, checking readings on the scroll at the end of the bed. "Alright, everyone, now he's woken up, you can go and get some rest! He's fine, he's not going to go anywhere! Go on, out!" she urged, rounding on the gathered crowd. With varying expressions of chastisement, they dispersed after patting Harry's arm, or kissing his forehead. Chris and Wyatt, however, refused to move. Madame Pomfrey sighed, hands on her hips. "I don't suppose I can expect you two to leave, can I?" she mused, and the two teens shook their heads. "Just be careful with him, and mind his leg," she added to Chris, who was on the same side as Harry's injured leg. He nodded, snuggling closer to Harry, who laid his head on the taller boy's shoulder. "I'll be back in an hour to check on you." With that, the nurse left, erecting a privacy ward behind her to block out surrounding noise, and Harry sighed wearily.

"It's over," he declared happily, and Wyatt and Chris grinned at him.

"We did it," Wyatt agreed, his arms reaching out to bring Chris into the embrace.

"I love you, both of you, you know that, right?" Harry breathed into the near-silence of the newly erected privacy bubble. "When everything is sorted… let's go back to San Francisco. Stay at your parents' place. Just have some us-time, yeah?" he suggested. Chris smiled, pressing chapped lips to Harry's own.

"That sounds like a brilliant idea," he declared quietly. The three lay in silence for a long while, before Harry spoke again.

"I couldn't have done it without you two," he told them. "I needed the Power of Three, yes, but… you two helped me more than you can imagine."

"I think we can, babe," Wyatt told him, smirking into Harry's hair. "'Cause you helped us just as much. Now, what do you say we get some sleep, yeah?" Harry smiled back, tilting his head to kiss Wyatt softly. Wyatt kissed back, then leaned over him to meet Chris' lips.

The three of them shifted in the enlarged bed, attempting to get comfortable despite Harry's sore ribs and leg, and eventually found a position they could all sleep in. Harry focused on the strong arms draped over his waist, and the soft breaths puffing on his neck and hair, and drifted off to the daydream of he, Wyatt and Chris relaxing in the Halliwell home, the cousins all playing around them, Piper and Leo watching from the doorway with happy smiles.

He'd never been happier to be the subject of the prophecy, as that prophecy had led him to the Power of Three, and to Chris and Wyatt.


	16. Harry/Zach Addy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope Night wants… 'Harry/Zach (Bones) - "I'll never be a knight in shining armour. But I'll try my best if you ask me to."' -

Zach never thought he'd see the day a man stood on the steps of the Jeffersonian in the pouring rain, a dozen red roses in hand, shouting declarations of love over the din of water splashing on concrete, for the whole world (and his colleagues) to see. And he never, _ever_ thought he'd see the day that man was for him. All he could do was stare, mouth agape, as he slowly got wetter and wetter from the rain, yet finding himself unable to move.

"Zach!" Harry was calling, anguish clear in his voice. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, you can't even imagine. I'm the sorriest, most idiotic bastard in the universe… and I'm asking you to forgive me." Zach's wide eyes darted to the side, where all five of his colleagues were standing, equally wet and equally astonished, watching the proceedings in confusion.

"Zach, what's going on?" Angela asked quietly, but he was unable to answer, his attention drawn back to Harry.

"And you had to make a scene to convey your apology?" he called back flatly, arms crossed over his chest defensively, t-shirt soaked through to the skin and shivers crawling up his spine. That earned him a short chuckle, and a wry upturn of lips.

"Would I be anyone else if I didn't?" Harry retorted. "But seriously, Zach; I was a complete arsehole to you, and nobody deserved that, least of all you. My only excuse is that I was scared. I still _am_ scared – fucking terrified, as a matter of fact – but I learned a good few years back that fear is often irrational, and should be ignored at every opportunity," he added with a grin. Zach almost interrupted to make a remark about fear being a basic survival instinct, and therefore very important, but didn't. He was still paralyzed in shock, fringe dripping into his eyes.

Harry took a few steps forward, but was still several feet away from Zach. Other people had stopped to watch, curious, but Zach didn't notice. He probably would have blushed if he had. "I'm terrified of so many things; of you getting hurt, of you leaving, of the fucking feeling itself! You know better than most how lacking my life has been in that respect," Harry remarked bitterly. "But… I love you. I love you like I've never loved anything or anyone else in my life, and I figured that; hey, you're probably scared too. Why not be scared together? Because… lets face it, Zach; I need you more than I need the air I breathe, and I made the biggest mistake of my life in pushing you away. I may have mentioned this already, but I'm an idiot." That garnered a small flicker of a smile from Zach, and Harry caught it, grinning back. "Still, I'm an idiot who loves you, and here I am, on my knees." As he said this, he dropped to his knees on the concrete steps, completely uncaring of the large puddles gathering on them and soaking through the knees of his jeans. "Begging you to give me a second chance. We've both been hurt, we're both pretty fucking messed up if I do say so myself, and we're probably a complete train-wreck of a couple, but I don't give a shit. I've never felt better than when I'm with you, and for all my cowardice, I'm not prepared to give you up just yet, if you'll have me." Zach dazedly moved a few steps forward, until he was stood two steps up from Harry's kneeling form.

"I'll never be a knight in shining armour, Zach. We both know that. But I'll try my best if you ask me to, if you'll take me back. Just… please, Zach. I'll follow you to the ends of the Earth if you ask it, and all I ask is you have me back… secrets and all. So… what do you say?" Harry let out a breath, shrugging his shoulders and staring up at Zach with hopeful eyes. Zach couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't _think_. He did know one thing, though, and one thing only.

"Get off your knees, Harry," he said, his voice sounding foreign even to himself. Harry's expression crumpled, and Zach swore he saw a couple of tears mix in with the rain sliding down the man's face. Harry pushed himself to his feet, soggy roses held limply in one hand.

"Right. Right, okay, I…" he trailed off, biting his lip, and Zach sighed.

"You're right on several counts; the biggest being that yes, you are in fact an idiot," he said frankly, and Harry winced. Zach mentally cursed his lack of social skills, and hastened to redeem his words. "But you're also right that I'm scared too. I'd be a lot less scared if I knew you were there with me." Harry's expression brightened at these words, a tentative smile creeping over his features.

"Yeah?" he asked hopefully, and Zach nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he held out a hand. Harry reached out and slid his hand into Zach's, squeezing gently as their fingers intertwined. "So… is that a yes, then?" Zach laughed breathlessly, pulling on Harry's hand until they were barely inches apart, beaming like fools at one another.

"Yes," he breathed, and the next thing he knew, lips were covering his own and a strong arm was snaking around his waist, pulling him flush against a soaking wet, sweater clad chest. Zach's arms automatically wrapped around Harry, gripping at his shoulders as he kissed back fiercely, feeling one of Harry's hands slide into his hair, gripping in a way that should have been painful.

Whenever he'd heard his sisters, female friends, or Angela talking about their romance novels and movies, most of them usually held kissing in the rain as the height of romanticism. He'd never really seen what they were talking about; kissing in the rain didn't sound all that appealing to him. It was wet, it was cold, and it was generally uncomfortable. Not romantic in the slightest. At least, that's what he'd thought before experiencing one for himself. Now, he wasn't sure if it was the rain or Harry, but either way, he had to admit the novels might be onto something.

Eventually, however, air became a necessity, and the pair parted, still staying in the close embrace. Harry moved one hand from Zach's hair to cup his face, pushing the man's wet fringe out of his eyes. "I love you," he murmured, his tone leaving Zach in absolutely no doubt of that fact.

"I love you, too," he replied quietly, grinning happily. Harry grinned back, pecking him on the lips once more.

"Lucky me," he replied playfully. Zach rolled his eyes at him, and the romantic moment was broken. At the same time, so was Zach's absence of reality; it all came crashing back down as he realised that half the museum's various staff and patrons were gathered under the shelter at the top of the stairs, leaning out of windows, and otherwise finding ways to watch the scene. Many of them – particularly the females – were applauding and cheering, some even discreetly wiping tears from their eyes. Zach imagined they must have heard every word of Harry's dramatic apology.

And there, in the midst of it all, were his colleagues; Dr Brennan seemed to be eyeing him like he was one of her skeleton-puzzles she couldn't crack; Agent Booth was gaping openly, and Zach winced inwardly upon remembering the man's Christian upbringing; Cam looked like she didn't know whether to be reprimanding, amused, or supportive, and settled for a mix of the three that only made her look mildly ill; Hodgins was grinning widely, his arm around Angela, who was one of the many crying, applauding women, smiling broadly at Zach and Harry. Harry, arm still around Zach's waist, just moved forward, heading up the steps towards them, leaving Zach with no choice but to follow.

"Hello, I don't believe we've met. I'm Harry; Harry Potter."


	17. Harry/Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Chineseartist wants… 'Harry/Gambit (X-men) - Thieves' -

8 year-old Harry James Potter smirked secretively as he watched the fat wallet bob effortlessly through the air, making its silent way towards him, its owner completely unawares. When it eventually came within his reach, he snatched it from the air and turned on his heel, preparing to scarper, only to bump into a thin, firm body. Toppling to the floor, he let out a quiet whimper of fear, sure he was done for. Tentatively looking up, he couldn't stop the sigh of relief as he saw not a policeman, but a scruffy teenage boy, looking at him curiously, his head slightly cocked. "You, cher," he said, with an accent to his voice that Harry couldn't quite place. "How did y' do t'at?" Harry winced as he realised the boy must have seen his trick with the wallet, and he shook his head meekly.

"Don't know, sir," he whispered, lowering his eyes respectfully.

"No sir; Remy. C'mon, I know somewhere safe for les garcons like you." The dark-haired boy held out a hand, and Harry finally met his eyes, gasping in shock as he met glittering red irises. Warily, Harry reached out, slipping his small hand into the older boy's long-fingered one. He didn't really have any other choices.

.-.-.

\- 11 years later -

Harry laughed silently as Remy charmed the girl, her friends giggling behind their hands as they watched her talk to the handsome man. So enraptured were they with him that not one of them noticed Harry levitate the closest girl's purse from her open handbag. Female giggles lingered in the background as he concentrated on the purse, and he smiled triumphantly as the purse dropped into his hand. Meeting Remy's eye over the girl's heads, he winked, and Remy grinned slightly. Harry watched as his companion made his excuses, waving off the girl's offer of a phone number and darting out of their sight, appearing at Harry's side. "Bingo," Harry whispered quietly, feeling Remy's hand slip into his own, chapped lips brushing against his cheek.

"Tres bien, mon amor," Remy's husky voice breathed, sending familiar shivers down Harry's spine. Leaning into Remy's shoulder, he felt the older man's arm slide around his waist, his hand a familiar weight on his hip.

"Where next?" he asked, his voice a low murmur in the chaos of the busy city. But Remy heard him, as he always did, as if he were the only person in the world.

"Home. I need you," Remy replied, equally as quietly, and Harry's pulse raced, already aroused by the sound of his lover's voice. "T'e chit's perfume 's all Remy can smell; need t' smell you, amor," he admitted. A possessive growl erupted low in Harry's throat, and he spun abruptly, pushing Remy back against the wall, pressing their lips together forcefully. Remy kissed back with just as much passion, their hips grinding together as hands gripped at clothing and hair. Harry pulled back, catching sight of lust-filled ruby eyes, before Remy buried his face in Harry's neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, his nose pressed to Harry's pulse point as he tried to rid his senses of the smell of cheap perfume. Harry smelled like musk and lust and heat, and Remy loved it. He'd been captivated by the green-eyed boy from the moment he'd first met him, watching him perform his incredible trick. Since then, his fascination had only grown as Harry did, and it hadn't taken long past Harry's maturity before they were lovers. His life had changed the moment he'd met the extraordinary child, and he couldn't be happier that it had.

Harry's hands slid under Remy's t-shirt, groping at hot flesh, and Remy moaned against Harry's collarbone, bucking up into the touch. "Well, well, well," a voice drawled, and the couple froze where they stood, wide eyes meeting in panic. "I hate to break up this little rendezvous, but I need to talk to you two." Harry turned, allowing both him and Remy to see the man speaking to them. He was tall, muscular, with hard eyes and a mocking smile; he looked like the type of person you didn't want to meet down a dark alley.

"Oh yeah? What about?" Harry asked, his hand gripping tightly at Remy's t-shirt hem behind his lover's back. The man's eyes glinted in amusement, and he looked them over calculatingly.

"I've got a friend who wants to meet you, I'm being forced to play messenger boy," he told them, sounding none too happy about that.

"Remy knows you," Remy blurted suddenly, gaining surprised looks from the other two. "On t'e island… you were t'e one wit' t'e claws, t'e one who got 'em free… y' got shot, non?" Both Harry and the stranger's eyes widened at that; Harry had heard the story from Remy once he'd been freed, as Harry and Remy had got separated when they got captured, and while Remy had escaped, Harry had not. So this was the man who had saved them all? He relaxed a little, slightly more confident that the man wasn't there to hurt them.

"Oh, yeah… the guy with the chopper. You don't seem like the kind of guy who'd need to steal purses from chicks to get by," the stranger remarked. Harry laughed aloud at that; if there was one thing he and Remy didn't need, it was money.

"That? Oh, just a bit of fun. Sharpening the skills; use it or lose it and all that. Now… you said there was someone who wanted to talk to us? About what?" he asked warily. While Remy was the elder of the two, Harry usually did the talking. That was just the way things worked.

"Not here; there's ears everywhere. You coming, or not?" the man urged, jerking his head towards the other end of the alley, already turning and walking away. Harry and Remy shared a long look, communicating merely through the slight movements and inflections that were learned through spending almost every day for eleven years by each other's sides. Finally, they nodded in unison, Remy leaning forward to kiss the nineteen year-old chastely, gripping his hand firmly as they followed the stranger down the alley. Smirking, Harry concentrated on the man's back pocket, sensing for its contents, and practically _heard_ Remy's smirk as a crumpled fifty dollar note floated out from the man's jeans pocket, smoothly drifting into Harry's outstretched hand, the stranger with no idea as to the removal of his money. Remy leaned in and kissed his cheek, chuckling.

"Je t'adore, mon cher. I love you," he remarked proudly, making Harry snigger quietly.

"Love you, too, Remy," he replied, pocketing the money in one swift movement.

After all, they may have aged, and they may be a lot richer than they were when they met, but at heart, they'd always be just a couple of scruffy thieves.


	18. Harry/Charlie Weasley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Nightfairy79 wants… 'Harry/Charlie' -

Harry pushed his sweaty fringe off his forehead, wiping his face with his t-shirt. Merlin, he hadn't expected it to be so _hot_! Sure, he knew it would be a lot hotter than home, but this was incredible! He could see how even fair-skinned Charlie Weasley could tan out in this sun all day. He himself was already a golden-brown all over, and he got the feeling the colour would last a good few months into his time back at Hogwarts.

"Alright, Harry, back it up a bit! She should be alright to head out on her own, now, so don't let her latch onto you!" a voice called, and Harry nodded, barely sparing a glance for the woman who was instructing him, keeping his eyes on the dragon a few feet from him. While the Chinese Fireball was only four months old, she was at least two feet taller than him and could easily squish him should she feel the urge. It was time for her to join her mother, having outgrown the hatchling pen.

He slowly started to back away, staying as silent as possible; if she noticed him leaving, she'd try and follow, and then her mother would never come to take her. Stumbling slightly on the loose sand, he managed to make it to a safe distance from the dragon, standing just in front of the handler who was instructing him. The two of them watched patiently as the young dragon pawed curiously at the sand, letting out a screech as a large dragon swooped down to land in front of her. The mother sniffed at her child, snorting in annoyance at the scent of humans all over the creature, but nudged her with her nose until she took off into the air. Harry held his breath, watching the two majestic creatures fly over to join the rest of the herd, before letting a triumphant grin take over his features.

"Nice one, Potter," Sylvia, the handler, complimented, and he merely grinned wider as she high-fived him. "You can head back to camp, now, I'll finish up here. And I'm pretty sure our boy Charlie has his own plans for you this evening," she added with a leer. Had he been the Harry who had first arrived at the reserve, he would have blushed horribly, but after six weeks of their teasing, he was used to it.

"See you in the morning, then," he replied, and she nodded, winking.

"Have a good night, Harry," she called, laughing as the teen practically sprinted back in the direction of the main camp.

.-.-.

Harry was greeted by a familiar smiling face as he reached the camp, and Charlie jogged up to meet him, kissing him on the forehead when they met. "Hey, gorgeous. Have fun?" he asked, and Harry nodded, leaning into the arm that wound round his waist.

"Yeah, it was brilliant! I'll miss her, though, she was a lovely little thing," he mused with a small frown, thinking of the spirited young dragon hatchling. Harry had been put in charge of her when he'd first arrived at the reserve, and he'd learned a lot with her.

"The first is always hardest," Charlie agreed sympathetically, pressing his lips to the top of Harry's head. "Now, go take a shower, then meet me in my tent in an hour. I've got a surprise for you, love," he said with a mischievous grin, reminding Harry that the twins weren't the only ones in the family with a penchant for causing trouble.

"Ooh, do you now? Will I like this surprise?" Harry retorted teasingly, and a slight flash of nervousness passed over Charlie's face, before being replaced by a playful smile.

"I hope so. Now go on, scoot," he urged, squeezing Harry's arse as he ushered him towards the tents laughingly. Harry chuckled, waving over his shoulder before ducking into his own tent.

While he had spent more time in Charlie's tent than his own these past few weeks, he still had his tent that he'd used before he and Charlie had gathered the nerve to make their 'thing' official. He and Charlie had been dancing around each other since the previous summer, sharing a drunken kiss over Christmas that only made things more awkward between them, but after two weeks of undeniable sexual tension on the reserve, Charlie had finally bit the bullet and admitted his feelings for Harry. The two had been practically inseparable ever since, and Harry would freely admit that he had fallen fast and hard for the redheaded dragon tamer.

He'd been falling for Charlie ever since Christmas of his fifth year, when they'd spent the time at Grimmauld place, and Charlie had come home for the holidays. He'd felt the chemistry immediately, and it had been the cause of many sticky mornings and restless nights, as well as a good few awkward situations. Then he'd spent almost the whole summer before sixth year at the Weasleys' or Grimmauld, by which time Charlie had been called home for Order business. He now knew that Charlie had had feelings for him back then, but at the time he'd thought it was all wishful thinking, resulting in lots of blushing and stuttering on his part, and awkwardness and amusement on Charlie's.

Stripping off his sweat-soaked t-shirt, his mind wandered back to last Christmas, when he and Charlie had kissed for the first time. The twins had smuggled in some firewhiskey, and Mr and Mrs Weasley were out for the night, meaning it had been a brilliant idea to play Wizarding Truth or Dare. Spells were placed on the players to compel them to tell the truth if they picked it, or drink if they failed to complete a dare.

He had already been quite tipsy by the time his truth was 'who do you fancy?', and so he passed in favour of a dare. Unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it – his dare was to kiss Charlie, and the two of them got a little… carried away. The twins hadn't let them live it down for the rest of the holiday, the only thing more tease-worthy being Ron and Hermione finally getting their act together. Harry and Charlie had avoided each other since, but began writing again when Harry went back to school, and it was Charlie who invited Harry to spend his summer out on the reserve after the Final Battle. Harry jumped at the chance to both get out of the public eye for a while, and spend some alone time with Charlie.

He grinned widely to himself in the shower, marveling at how his life had changed so drastically in just a few weeks. While he was only just seventeen, and he'd only been with Charlie for a few weeks, he already knew he could quite happily spend the rest of his life with the man.

Getting out from under the water's spray, he turned off the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and grabbing another one to rub his hair dry with as he wandered through to the bedroom. He smiled fondly upon seeing clothes laid out on the bed for him; Charlie had clearly realised that most of Harry's stuff was over at his place. Picking up the clothes, his smile only grew upon seeing Charlie's favourite of his shirts – a long-sleeved, emerald green button-down that apparently made his eyes stand out – and a pair of well-fitting black jeans, also a favourite of Charlie's. Socks and his black and silver dragonhide boots were also laid out, but no boxers, he noted with a smirk. Already he liked what Charlie had planned.

Using a drying charm on himself, he sprayed deodorant and cologne, dressing with care to make sure he looked perfect. While he tried to neaten his hair somewhat, he gave up after ten minutes, leaving it in the messy style it settled into naturally. He'd had it cut to resemble more of a 'just-got-shagged' look rather than a birds-nest, and he had to admit it looked good.

Very glad he'd found a potion to correct his eyesight, he gave himself a once-over in the mirror. Okay, he looked hot. Smirking to himself, he reached over to the dresser, picking up the pendant that had been Charlie's seventeenth birthday present to him. It was platinum pendant, about the size of a sickle, in the shape of two dragons curled around each other. One was a shimmering silver, with green flecks on its scales and an emerald chip for an eye, while the other was a royal purple – Charlie's favourite colour – with blue-flecked scales and a sapphire eye. It was beautiful, and he was very rarely without it.

Glancing at his watch, he noticed he had five minutes to get over to Charlie's, and with one last look in the mirror, he left the tent, smiling happily to himself. He nodded at a couple of people who passed him, fending off knowing looks and suggestive smirks; everyone knew exactly who he was going to see, and had a good idea of what they'd been getting up to that night. Reaching Charlie's tent, he pushed aside the flap and stepped inside, his eyes widening when he saw Charlie. The redhead was dressed similarly to Harry, in a dark purple button-down and dark blue jeans, his navy and purple dragonhide boots well-cleaned for once. He was smiling winningly, and wolf-whistled when Harry entered. "Well, well, don't you clean up nicely," he remarked appreciatively, moving to press his lips to his lover's. Harry kissed back slowly, moaning quietly. When they parted, Charlie grinned. "Come on, love," he urged, taking Harry's hand and leading him out of the tent.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked curiously, allowing himself to be led. "You look gorgeous, by the way." Charlie flashed him a secretive smile.

"You'll see. Don't worry, it's not too far. I promise you, you'll love it." The sun was beginning to lower, now, and the heat wasn't as overwhelming as it was during the day. It was a nice warmth, and Harry basked in it, leaning into Charlie's side as they walked. They were heading away from the camp, towards the caves, and Harry's curiosity peaked as they started up the path leading to some of the higher caves and ridges.

When Charlie eventually brought them to a stop, Harry's breath caught in his throat; they were standing on a ledge, slightly shaded by a higher cliff, but from their place he could see right out across the reserve, the dragons lounging in the sun over by the lake. The sunset just touched the top of the cliffs opposite, bathing everything in a warm orange glow. "Oh, Charlie, it's beautiful," he breathed in awe, squeezing his boyfriend's hand. Charlie beamed, kissing him chastely.

"Told you you'd love it. C'mon, I brought dinner." Harry turned, noticing for the first time that there was a table for two set up off to the side, and Charlie was bringing a box from his pocket, enlarging it. Harry allowed the redhead to pull out his chair for him, blushing faintly at the attention, and watched in surprise as Charlie pulled two covered plates from the box, setting one at each place setting.

"What's the occasion?" he asked, surprised, and Charlie grinned, uncovering the plates to reveal pasta carbonara, Harry's favourite.

"Can't a man show his boyfriend he loves him every now and then?" he replied casually, making Harry blush; he didn't think he'd ever get used to hearing Charlie say those words, feeling the familiar warm buzz that accompanied them.

"Oh, believe me, I'm not complaining," he assured the older man, grinning.

The two tucked into the food happily, conversation – and wine – flowing as easily as it always did between the two, their knees pressed together under the table. When they had finished Charlie brought out dessert, a gorgeous chocolate torte that they had fun feeding each other. "I am so glad I fell for a fantastic cook, this really is delicious," Harry complemented, making Charlie chuckle.

"You think mum would let any of us leave home without knowing how to cook properly?" he remarked, and Harry nodded wryly. While he himself was a good cook, it was nice to let someone else do the work for a change, and he loved Charlie's cooking.

Soon, however, the food was all gone, and they were left sharing the bottle of wine, looking out over the glorious sunset. "I am so glad I invited you out here," Charlie murmured, and Harry nodded.

"Same. It's been brilliant, living here with all of you, working with the dragons and everything. I can see why you love it so much," he said truthfully. He was already considering coming out to work at the reserve after he'd graduated, either as a dragon handler or a healer.

"It's been even better with you here, though," Charlie told him, smiling affectionately. "I love you so much," he breathed, and Harry beamed back.

"I love you too, always will," he replied. Charlie shook his head.

"No, you don't get it; I _really_ love you. I have never felt this way about anyone in my life, and _Merlin_ I never want it to end." Suddenly, Charlie moved from his seat, getting down on one knee in front of Harry. The teen gasped loudly; this wasn't what he thought it was, was it? "Harry, I know we've not been together very long, but I've loved you for _years_ , and if I know one thing, it's that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, start a family with you. Of course, we can wait until after you've graduated, but… Fuck, Harry… Marry me?" Charlie pulled a black velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a beautiful platinum ring with a star-cut diamond in the centre, a small emerald on either side of the stone. It was simple, not too feminine, and perfect.

Harry felt tears sting at his eyes, his lips curling into an impossibly wide smile. "Yes," he breathed quietly. "Merlin, _yes_ , Charlie, of course I'll marry you!" he cried happily, practically flinging himself at the man. Charlie beamed, taking the ring from the box and carefully sliding it onto Harry's finger, kissing the diamond when he'd done so. "I love you," Harry murmured, straddling Charlie's lap from where he'd knocked him to the floor in his excitement. "Fucking hell, we just got _engaged_ ," he realised, awestruck. Charlie snickered.

"Yeah, we did. Couldn't be happier," he told his fiancé, pressing a long kiss to the younger man's lips, sliding a hand up the back of Harry's shirt, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin, making Harry arch into the touch. Suddenly, he had a thought.

"Oh, fuck… who's going to tell your mum?"


	19. Harry/Viktor Krum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Njferrell wants… 'Viktor/Harry - Leather pants' -

Tiny wings beat angrily, struggling against the tight grip around the golden ball, but Harry's fingers didn't budge, holding the snitch triumphantly over his head, a wide grin on his face as he pulled out of his dive, toes skimming the grass. The crowd burst into cheers and screams, the noise practically deafening, and Harry was immediately tackled by his teammates in a flying tangle of limbs, getting clapped on the back and hugged and kissed from every angle. "Bloody brilliant, Potter!" Katie Bell, his old Gryffindor teammate exclaimed in his ear, pressing a happy kiss to his cheek. He laughed, hugging her back, their odd group-hug slowly descending to touch down on the pitch, where they were joined by yet more bodies; namely the reserves, the coach, and the manager. Harry vaguely heard the announcer screaming that England had won as he disengaged himself from the ecstatic bundle of people, his grin unhindered as he met familiar brown eyes across the pitch. He walked a few steps until he was stood in front of the man; he'd grown a lot since Harry had last seen him, and now towered over him even more, Harry's slightly small 5"9 no match for Viktor's 6"2.

"Good game, Harry. Very impressive playing," he said quietly, holding out a callused hand. Harry gripped it, shaking it firmly, shrugging his shoulders carelessly before leaning in to hug the man, clapping him on the back, still beaming like a loon. Viktor stiffened slightly in surprise, before hugging back, his low chuckle sounding in Harry's ear.

"You too, Viktor. You really made me work out there," Harry assured him as he pulled back, earning a devious smile from the Slavic man.

"I am glad I made you work up a sweat. I shall see you at the afterparty." With another small smile, Viktor turned and left, and Harry was swept up into the cheering, screaming crowd that was his team. However, despite their enthusiasm, only one thought lingered in his mind. Had Viktor been… _flirting_ with him?

.-.-.

Sat at the bar, one elbow leant against the polished wood, a shot of firewhiskey in one hand, Harry surveyed his friends and colleagues with amusement. They were only a couple of hours or so into the party, but already most of them were three sheets to the wind, with raucous drunken singing erupting all over the place, and slurred declarations of love being exclaimed to spouses, friends, complete strangers and inanimate objects. Harry snickered as Bill Weasley shouted how he was madly in love with the barstool, but don't tell Fleur or she might get upset. "I don't think your love is returned, Bill!" he yelled over to the redhead as the barstool was knocked over, causing the man to practically burst into tears while his completely sober, pregnant wife watched him, unsure whether to laugh or seek mental help for her husband.

"I told him to stay away from the goblin ale, but he never listens," Charlie remarked, sliding onto the stool next to Harry, giving a jaunty salute with his half-drunk pint of cider.

"Oh, give him a break, he's happy," Harry replied with a grin. Charlie laughed, taking a swig of his drink.

"We all are, mate, that was a damn fantastic catch you made out there. Why aren't you joining in on the festivities? I'll have you know you're being utterly boring just sitting here on your own," he said with a firm nod, making Harry snort.

"Am I, now? Well, I apologise for that. Buy me another, and I might liven up a little," he told his pseudo-brother, downing the last of his shot. Charlie beamed, already hailing the barman.

"That's the spirit!" he cheered, and Harry smiled amusedly at him, letting his eyes roam over the crowd once more. His gaze paused as the door to the bar opened, and an eyebrow rose as the Bulgarian team filed into the room, grinning despite their losses. It was tradition for both teams to join each other at some point during their afterparties, and usually all post-match grudges were put aside in favour of alcohol and having a good time. His eyes landed on Viktor, who was the last to come in, and he froze. Dear _God_ , how had he not noticed how bloody gorgeous that man was? Sure, he wasn't conventionally attractive, but… those eyes were incredible, and the shirt he was wearing clung to his abs and biceps in all the right places, and _sweet Merlin_ , were those _leather trousers_?

Charlie noticed his appreciative gaze, and smirked. "Well, well, looks like your party just got better. If you'll excuse me, I believe Oliver wants a dance," he said, looking towards his husband, who was giving him pointed looks. Harry nodded, barely paying attention as the redhead thrust a drink into his hand and left, his eyes still fixed on the Bulgarian man. Viktor turned, his eyes meeting Harry's, and he smirked. Harry willed himself not to blush; needless to say, his efforts failed epically.

His heart sped up as Viktor made his way over to the bar, taking Charlie's vacated seat. It took a few moments for Harry's brain to kick back into gear, and he smiled. "Buy you a drink?" he offered, making Viktor smile slightly, nodding. Harry called the barman over, asking the man to put Viktor's drink on the team's tab, before turning back to his companion. "You were really awesome out there, it was a tight match," he told him, ignoring the way the word 'tight' echoed in his brain, his gaze trailing down to the crotch of Viktor's trousers. The black leather was practically painted on the man, clinging to his thighs and arse deliciously. Harry almost wanted to check to see if he was drooling.

"Thank you, but you were also very good. I have not had such a good competition in a long time," Viktor replied honestly, sipping at his ice vodka. Harry noticed that the older man's English had improved significantly over the years, but he still had a hint of an accent that gave an almost seductive drawl to his words. Whatever it was, Harry loved it.

"How have you been, anyway? Haven't seen you in a while," he said, desperately trying to keep his thoughts off the circumstances under which they last met. He didn't need memories of Cedric springing up, not now.

"I have been good, the same old, really. What about you? I have read some of the papers, but… I do not always trust them." Harry smiled wryly; Viktor had been almost as much of a victim of Rita Skeeter as Harry had, during the tournament. He had suffered a lot of ridicule and belittlement over the perceived Harry/Hermione/Viktor love triangle. "However, the papers did not show how much you have grown up in the past eight years," he drawled, giving Harry's seated form a slow eyeing over. Once again, Harry felt his cheeks heat.

"I could say the same for you. Either I was completely blind in fourth year, or you got hotter," he replied boldly, spurred on by the alcohol in his system and Charlie's obscene gestures from across the room. One of Viktor's eyebrows arched, before he smirked.

"I always noticed you were attractive, but now… you are a very handsome man, Harry Potter," he told him, voice low and husky. Harry couldn't help but notice that the man's leather trousers seemed tighter around the crotch area. Not that he was staring, or anything… "Your catch today, it was a very difficult catch to make. I had no idea you were so… flexible." Harry smirked mischievously; he had practically bent himself backwards on his broom in order to catch the snitch, hurtling towards the ground at a ridiculous speed while doing so. He was still slightly amazed he hadn't killed himself.

"If you fancy coming back to my hotel room after the party, I can show you just how _flexible_ I really am," he dared, shooting the taller man a challenging look, eyes blatantly full of lust. Viktor returned the look, turning in his stool so his knees were between Harry's, leaning forward until one of his knees was rubbing teasingly on the inside of his thigh, pressing up against the bulge in his jeans.

"I would like that very much. But until then… dance with me?" Harry nodded, allowing Viktor to take his hand and lead him to the dance floor, joining the crowd of drunken dancers all writhing to the fast-paced song. Viktor wasted no time in pulling Harry close to him, grinding their hips together, both of them moaning in unison at the delicious friction, hands roaming across chests and backs and under shirts, gripping at heated flesh.

Really, Harry thought, he'd been done for since the moment he'd seen the leather.


	20. Harry/Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope Night wants… 'Harry/Ten (Doctor Who) - Neverland' -

Eight year-old Harry Potter tried not to yelp in pain as dirt and grit got into the open wounds on his palms and forearms, dark red blood mixing in with the soil as he tended to Petunia's flowerbeds. He'd been punished the night before for burning the roast, and he was still tender. He didn't show it, though; showing pain only got him into deeper trouble. He'd learned that years ago.

Suddenly, he was startled by a strange sound echoing from further down the street. It sounded almost like an engine, but not really, and he couldn't help but be curious. Sitting back on his haunches, sending nervous glances towards the kitchen windows in case Petunia caught him resting, he gazed out over the neighbourhood, wondering where the sound had come from. He could see an odd blue glow emanating from the alley a few houses further down. Looking back at the house once more, he bit his lip in contemplation, before gathering his nerve and getting to his feet, hurrying down the street towards the alley. He ran as fast as his broken ankle could take him, desperately hoping he wasn't spotted, and by the time he ducked into the alley, he was breathing heavily, his heart beating wildly against his cracked ribs.

"Hello, there." The voice startled him, making him jump half a foot in the air, emerald eyes widening dramatically. The man stood opposite him was tall, though he'd crouched down upon seeing Harry, and had windswept brown hair and a friendly smile. He was in a brown pinstriped suit, with red converses, and a long brown greatcoat that brushed the ground as he lowered to Harry's level. "And what's your name, then?" the man asked softly, his brown eyes large and curious.

"H-Harry, sir. Harry Potter," he stuttered in reply, watching as a look of amazement entered the strange man's eyes.

"Well, well, you are a special little boy, aren't you?" he murmured softly. "May I?" Harry didn't know what the man was asking, but he nodded anyway, half-scared and half-awestruck. The man reached out, pushing Harry's matted fringe off his forehead, tracing a gentle finger over his lightning bolt scar. Harry flinched instinctively, expecting to be struck, but stilled at the soft touch. No one had ever been so tender with him before.

Suddenly, the man beamed widely, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Harry, what would you do if I told you I had a spaceship?"

.-.-.

Ten years later, and Harry found himself still occasionally day-dreaming back to that fateful day in his childhood. The Doctor, as he'd later found out was the man's name, had shown him his TARDIS, explaining with obvious pride what she was capable of. Then he'd stopped, having noticed the blood slowly running down Harry's dirty arms, and immediately rushed him into the medical wing, bringing out a jar full of wonderful little yellow lights called nanogenes. They'd healed him miraculously, all the while the Doctor stayed by his bedside, babbling on about space and time and magic, telling Harry fantastic tales as the young boy allowed the lights to dance over his wounds.

Even better, the Doctor had then taken Harry to a place he called Godiva, but Harry maintained it must have been Neverland. The story of Peter Pan was his favourite as a child, having 'inherited' the book from Dudley after the chubby boy had thrown it through a window in frustration. He'd often wished for Peter to show up at his cupboard door and whisk him away to live with the Lost Boys, constantly on the look out for unusual shadows in case they were lacking an owner. Then the Doctor had turned up, and he thought all his dreams had been answered.

However, the Doctor refused to keep him, claiming it was too dangerous for Harry to stay with him. Harry argued, but allowed himself to be dropped back in Privet Drive with the promise that they would, eventually, meet again. He'd been beaten with the studded belt and starved for a week, but it was worth it.

Harry snapped back into attention as a chill wind picked up around him, and it took a moment for him to realise that the familiar sound wasn't just in his memories. Ron gave him an odd look as his eyes suddenly widened, and he tensed, cocking his head as he listened keenly. "Harry, what?" But Ron was ignored, a wide grin spreading across the dark-haired teen's face as he pinpointed the location of the sound.

"Ron, listen, I have to go. Don't follow me, and… tell the family I said goodbye. I don't know when I'll be back, his timing is terrible," he added with an amused snort, remembering how he'd been returned three days after he'd left. The Dursleys hadn't appreciated that.

"What, Harry, where are you going? Whose timing?" Ron asked, but Harry merely shook his head, already sprinting down the road.

"I'll explain when I get back!" he called back, darting round a corner, practically running into the suit-clad figure. "Doctor," he breathed, still hardly daring to believe the man was really there. Brown eyes narrowed in confusion, before landing on a familiar lightning bolt scar and widening in realization.

"Harry, blimey, look at you! It's been what, ten years?" he exclaimed happily, hugging the teen tightly. Harry hugged back, laughing in delight.

"Yeah. You haven't changed a bit," he remarked, giving the man a once-over. The alien was still his stick-thin, fluffy-haired, adorably geeky self, not looking even a day older than the last time Harry had met him. For all Harry knew, it _had_ been a day. Time travel was funny that way.

"What are you doing here?" the Doctor asked, and Harry smirked at him, shrugging one shoulder.

"Pure dumb luck," he said almost proudly, quoting McGonagall. The Doctor laughed, beaming widely.

"Brilliant," he mused quietly. The two of them stared at each other, grinning madly, not speaking. After a long moment, the Doctor held out a hand, raising an eyebrow suggestively. "You coming, or…" he trailed off expectantly, and Harry let out a euphoric laugh. He slid his hand into the Doctor's, tugging on it and leaning up on his toes to plant a fierce kiss on the startled Time Lord's lips. After a frozen moment of shock, a long arm wrapped around Harry's waist, and lips started to work against his own, deepening the kiss. When they broke apart, Harry squeezed the hand he was still holding, starting up into the man's eyes.

"You gave me a glimpse of Neverland, now show me the rest."


	21. Harry/Sirius/Remus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Nightfairy79 wants… 'Harry/Sirius/Remus' -

"Healer Potter! Healer Potter!" Harry groaned, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as the overly peppy intern called his name.

"For the love of Merlin's saggy left testicle, _what is it this time?_ " he growled, turning a glare on the young man. The blonde cringed, but stepped forward bravely, a chart in his hands.

"There's, uh, an arrival coming into the Emergency Room, sir. Another Auror division," he told him tentatively. Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"Another one? Fucking hell, what are they _doing_ over there?" he murmured to himself. Once upon a time, he would have been itching to head over to the Ministry and find out what was happening, to get himself in the thick of the action, but not any more. Now he had more to live for, and he'd matured enough to ignore the urge to throw himself into dangerous situations. He was much happier receiving the fallout and attempting to fix the damage afterwards.

"Alright, give me a minute. One day the bloody Aurors will figure out when to stop."

.-.-.

Harry sighed wearily as he stumbled through the floo, not trusting himself to apparate without splinching. "Hello?" he croaked, glancing around the darkened room. A quick look at the clock on the wall told him it was one thirty in the morning, and he groaned. Bloody brilliant; he'd been planning on heading home early. No such luck. His lovers were probably fast asleep by now. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he shrugged off his lime green healer's robes, throwing them haphazardly across the back of the sofa, and head for the stairs. Avoiding the creaky steps with the knowledge of one who was used to coming in silently at night, he turned down the hall and saw the bedroom door open just a crack, a low light glowing from the gap in the door. His heart rose slightly; there was hope yet.

He crept across the hall, gently pushing the door open further, and smiled to himself at the sight that greeted him. Remus was sat up in bed, a book in one hand, a dim ball of wandlight hovering above his head. He was wearing his reading glasses, which Harry thought made him look even sexier. Sirius's head was resting on his thigh, the black-haired man clearly having been dozing for a while, but he cracked an eye open on Harry's entry. Remus frowned when he saw him, slotting his bookmark between his pages and shutting the book, setting it and his glasses on the side table.

"You look exhausted," he murmured sympathetically. Harry smiled wryly, kicking off his boots.

"I feel it. I'm sorry, loves, I meant to be home early, but… seems the bulk of the Auror department decided to be practically suicidal today," he said with a snort. Sirius' lips curled into a small smile, and he held out an arm expectantly. Harry wasted no time in crawling up the bed, eagerly accepting Sirius' embrace, letting out a sigh as he rested his head on Remus' thigh. Sirius was warm, and smelled like cinnamon, and Harry loved it.

"Don't they do that every day?" Remus remarked, shuffling down the bed so that Harry and Sirius were leaning on his stomach. He ran his fingers through Harry's hair, the younger man's eyes half-closing in contentment.

"Yeah, but today was extra-special. C'mere, Moony," Harry murmured, throwing out an arm and moving round until all three of them were the same way up, Harry in the middle of his two older lovers. "God, this is wonderful. My shoulders are killing me, I've been hunched over patients for the past sixteen hours." Rolling his shoulders with a loud click, he groaned when Sirius sat up and began to massage his shoulders. "Mmm, that's nice. Hang on." With a twitch of his finger, Harry was suddenly naked apart from his boxers, and he let out a satisfied hum as Sirius' fingers touched bare skin.

"Y'know, we did have a wonderfully romantic evening planned for when you got home, but I suppose it'll have to wait until tomorrow. Good thing you've got the day off," Sirius mused, his fingers expertly working the knots in Harry's back and shoulders, turning the younger Gryffindor into a pile of blissful goo.

"Hmm? Oh, fuck, yeah… Sorry." Remus rolled his eyes, his hands joining Sirius' on Harry's back. They had stopped massaging, and were merely contenting themselves with running their hands all over his body, paying special attention to the sensitive areas they knew he had.

"Not your fault, gorgeous. Happy anniversary, though," the werewolf added with a loving smile. Harry rolled over onto his back, smiling up at the two older men.

"It's gone midnight, isn't it? Happy anniversary. Love you both, too much," he told them, grinning dopily. Sirius leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, then one to his forehead.

"Love you, too. Both of you. Happy anniversary," he said quietly, tilting his head up to accept a kiss from Remus, then watching the man kiss the youngest of the three.

"Merlin, I wish I had the energy to fuck you both rotten," Harry remarked, earning a small grin from Sirius, who tweaked a nipple playfully.

"Plenty of time for that tomorrow, love. Now sleep, you'll need your energy," he added, winking. Harry raised his arms expectantly, and the two men lay down on either side of him, snuggling close until the three of them were a mass of tangled limbs under the bedsheets, their breathing perfectly in sync. Harry pressed his lips to the nearest available skin, which happened to be Remus' neck.

"Don't deserve you two," he murmured sleepily. He felt Remus' arm tighten around his waist, and Sirius kissed his shoulder.

"Too bad, you're staying. Been here five years, I expect at least another hundred out of you." Harry grinned at that, squeezing Sirius' hip gently.

"Yes, sir." With a happy sigh, he snuggled further into the comfortable embrace of his lovers, falling asleep with a smile on his face. Even after five years with the two, he couldn't help but wonder how he'd gotten so lucky, and what he'd done to deserve two such wonderful men as his lifemates. Whatever it was, he thanked every god he could think of that he'd done it, and only hoped that he could give the two men those hundred years they wanted. Really, he mused, he couldn't think of anyone else in the world he'd rather spend them with.


	22. Harry/Will Schuester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope Night wants… 'Harry/Mr Schue (Glee) - "Well hell-o Mr Schuester" -

The Glee club were, as usual, singing their hearts out as they danced among each other, for once their rehearsal wasn't directed towards regionals, Mr Schue having decided they needed a break. Rachel was, of course, attempting to steal the spotlight from Kurt and Puck, who were singing with their faces barely inches apart, dancing opposite each other and exchanging looks that were far too heated to ever be seen as platonic. Mr Schue was on the outskirts of the group, grinning at the children, dancing slightly on the spot. None of them noticed the man standing in the doorway until the song ended, and slow applause greeted their ears. Startled, they turned, eyes widening at the handsome young man watching them, a smirk on his face. His jet black hair was styled in an artfully windswept way, his vibrant emerald eyes practically glowing behind black-framed geek-chic glasses, and a lithe yet muscular frame was clearly shown off by the fitted dark blue jeans and emerald green button-down shirt.

"Well, hell-o Mr Schuester," he drawled, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he surveyed the man, who was gaping. "Long time, no see. I must say, your kids are very talented. Brings back memories." His smirk widened, and the girls and Kurt all let out near-silent gasps at his smooth British accent.

"Harry… what are you doing here of all places?" Mr Schue stuttered, taking half a step towards the man. A wry smile graced chiseled features as the man, Harry, shrugged his shoulders.

"Heard from a friend of a friend you were still kicking around Lima, and my company are taking a break for the next two months, so I figured I'd come see what you were up to. It's been two years, Will."

"A friend of a… Brian," Mr Schue realized, and Harry nodded. "Didn't know you two were still in touch." There was a hint of venom to his voice, and Harry laughed.

"Oh, for God's sake, Will, I was never interested in Brian. I fucked him once, and to be honest, it was a little… disappointing." He held up his pinky finger and curved it, and Will couldn't help but smirk, even as he shot a wary glance to his Glee kids, who were watching the exchange with wide eyes.

"Watch your language in front of the kids, Harry," he chastised automatically, earning a snort from the Brit.

"Oh, please, they're high-schoolers. I'll bet they've seen, said and done plenty worse. Now, stop being jealous of Brian and come give me a proper hello." Harry held out his arms expectantly, and Will laughed, crossing the room and giving the man a tight hug, accepting a kiss on the cheek.

"Kids, give us some privacy, would you? I have to talk to Harry about some things," Will urged, but Kurt put his hands on his hips, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"Oh, no way. This is too good to miss," he said bluntly, the rest of the kids nodding in agreement. Harry snickered, and Will rolled his eyes.

"Let them stay. Nothing I can't tell you I wouldn't shout from the school roof anyway," Harry insisted.

"That doesn't surprise me," Will muttered dryly. Harry merely grinned, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yeah. Basically, I'm still in love with you." The pair ignored the gasps from the kids as Will's eyes widened.

"You… what? But… you left. You went home, and I went to Terri." There was a bitter tinge to the man's voice as he thought of his ex-wife, and Harry caught it, frowning slightly.

"That's because we're both idiots. I had a few loose ends to tie up back home, and you… you were living in a fucking glass closet. Now, I was kinda hoping that two years would be enough for you to have matured enough to open that damn closet door. Hell, if that kid can do it – by the way, I don't know your name, but your high notes are incredible." Kurt blushed at the reference to him, but smiled proudly, and Harry's eyes moved back to the stunned Will. "If he can be out and proud in a town like Lima, then Christ, Will, so can you! So…. I just came to wonder if you wanted to get back together, because if not, then I'll go home now." Despite his outward confidence, he was shifting nervously from foot to foot, an earnest expression on his face. Will sighed, lifting up a hand to gently brush Harry's cheek with his fingers.

"Harry, I…" he faltered, then took a deep breath. "Damn it, Harry, I was expecting to never see you again! I thought I was saying goodbye for good when I watched you step on that plane. But… I love you. I've _always_ loved you, and if I'm getting a second chance, I'm not gonna screw it up. So… yeah. I wanna get back together." The two grinned at each other dopily, before they were made aware of applause and cheering from the kids, as well as Mercedes and Kurt chanting "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" at them. Harry chuckled, sending Will a bemused smile.

"Always give the audience what they want," he remarked, stepping closer and placing a hand on the older man's waist. Will smiled slightly, before his lips were covered by Harry's. The two vaguely registered the cheers and wolf-whistles from the Glee kids, but they were too caught up in each other, lips working furiously against each other as they remembered familiar patterns and tastes. Harry pulled Will closer, wrapping a long arm around the man's waist, and one of Will's hands moved to tangle in Harry's hair. Eventually, they had to pull apart, panting slightly, and Will blushed as he realized the whole Glee club were staring, burying his face in Harry's shoulder. Harry laughed, squeezing around the man's waist, smirking smugly at the watching teens.

"Okay, that was insanely hot, and you guys should really do that again sometime," Kurt murmured, making Harry grin. Will eventually emerged, leaning into Harry's embrace, and facing his students with the slightest flush on his cheeks, but a pleased grin on his face.

"Okay, kids, this is Harry Potter. You might want to get to know him; I've got the feeling he's gonna be sticking around for a while."


	23. Harry/Tom Riddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Nightfairy79 wants… 'Harry/Voldemort' -

Harry waited until Ron's deafeningly loud snores filled the dormitory, accompanied by Neville's soft snuffles and Dean and Seamus' muffled, in-sync breathing, before silently rising from his bed. He was fully clothed under the duvet, and slipped his feet into his boots, removing his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's map from under his pillow. Glancing over at the three occupied beds – Dean and Seamus were, as usual, sharing Dean's – he crept across the dorm, stepping over the clothes and books strewn over the floor, and slipping out of the door. From then it was easy; the stairwell and common room were empty, and the Fat Lady was far too used to being opened by an invisible presence at the wee hours of the morning to take much notice. Harry felt the familiar adrenalin rush of being the only one lurking the corridors of the silent castle. Moonlight striped the stone floors through the windows, and Harry wrapped the cloak tighter around himself as a chill swept through the large hallway.

It didn't take long until he reached the second floor girls' bathroom, hissing the password under his breath with an almost predatory smirk on his face. As the pipe opened, he bundled up his cloak and tucked it under his arm, swinging himself gracefully down the slide and landing on the cushioning charmed floor. The chamber was sparkling clean, Harry having done so in his fifth year. It was now looking almost brand new, the stone and black marble gleaming in an almost sinister fashion, lit by the torches bracketed on the wall. Completely unfazed, Harry followed the familiar path to the central chamber, grinning as he hissed for the door to open and found his gaze met with a familiar pair of crimson eyes. "Tom," he breathed, his smile widening, and the teen opposite him smirked.

"Evening, love. You took your time," he said by way of greeting. Harry rushed to meet him, pulling him into a deep kiss.

"Sorry; the guys stayed up talking half the night again," he apologized breathlessly once they parted. Tom smiled at him, shaking his head.

"No worries. We still have plenty of time before you need to make an appearance. I love weekends," he added with a small smirk, making Harry grin. Tom's hands rested on Harry's hips, and Harry leant into the embrace, his lips pressed against Tom's neck.

While Voldemort, in his main essence, was dead, Tom still lived; he was the part of the soul in the Gaunt ring horcrux, and it seemed Dumbledore hadn't destroyed it quite as much as he'd thought he had. Harry had nearly died of fright when he'd come down to the Chamber, only to find the Slytherin-robed teen sat on Salazar's big toe, swinging his leg absently with a knowing smirk on his face. No one but Harry knew about Tom, and as the teen had become completely corporeal when Dumbledore died, being connected enough to him to steal his life energy, Harry had no intention of revealing his little secret.

"I've missed you. I wish we could spend more time together," Harry murmured forlornly into Tom's shoulder. The teen wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, gently urging him towards the open passageway between Salazar's feet, into the living suite. Their feet carried them on autopilot towards the bedroom, where the pair collapsed onto the soft mattress in a tangle of limbs and fabric.

"Tell your Gryffindor friends you need some space, spend the weekend down here with me," Tom urged softly, kissing his way down Harry's neck as he deftly undid the buttons of the Gryffindor's shirt. Harry moaned, arching into Tom's touch, fingers gripping the sheets.

"Wish I could, but Hermione's planning on having us camp out in the library for a NEWT study session most of the weekend, and I've got quidditch practice Sunday afternoon," he replied with a frown, making Tom growl into his lover's stomach.

"Does the stupid Mudblood not realise you could get straight O's with your wand snapped and both hands bound?" he muttered, biting a little too hard on Harry's nipple. Harry hissed slightly at the pain, but chuckled quietly, too used to the insult to his muggleborn friend to take real offence. She was starting to get on his nerves, anyway.

"Apparently not. Ron and I can't do a single thing without her help, remember?" he muttered darkly, his words tapering off into a groan as Tom found the sensitive spot at his navel. "What are we going to do when I graduate?" he asked, earning an irritated glare from Tom, who was working at the buttons on Harry's jeans. "I mean, I can't hide myself down here with you forever, as much as I'd love to. And there's only so many plausible excuses I can come up with to visit before people get suspicious."

"Do we have to talk about this now?" Tom griped, but dutifully stopped his ministrations, sliding himself up Harry's chest until they were almost face-to-face.

"Yes. I'm serious, Tom; what do I do? I don't want to leave you," Harry whispered into the silent room, his voice sounding small and scared. Tom's expression instantly softened, and he wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's lithe frame. Both of them often felt a little narcissistic about loving each other; they looked and acted so alike, after all. But then they looked a little closer, and saw the world of difference between them, and wondered how anyone could ever compare them.

"No one is leaving anyone, Harry," he declared fiercely, his lips a hair's breadth away from the Gryffindor's. "You should apply for a job at Hogwarts; you said Flitwick was planning to retire, you should take the Charm's post. And, failing that, we'll leave Britain and start afresh, somewhere nobody knows us. I promise you, Harry, we'll work something out." Harry smiled at the Slytherin, closing the small gap between them, and he grinned when they parted.

"I love you. And as harsh as it sounds, I'm glad Dumbledore died, if only because he gave me you," he breathed. Tom merely smiled, having thought the same thing many times over during the past year.

"I love you, too. And maybe the old coot was right; maybe the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not was love. It seems to have done a pretty good job of keeping me happy. Although, if neither of us gets naked any time soon…" he trailed off, waggling his eyebrows, and Harry laughed, smacking him playfully on the arse.

"As you wish, my Lord," he teased, before rolling them both over until he straddled Tom, whipping the teen's shirt over his head in one smooth motion.

"Now that's more like it."


	24. Harry/Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope Night wants… 'Harry/Merlin - The Princess Bride' -

Harry grinned as he watched Morgana and Sir Leon step into the centre of the dance floor, the band striking up a sweet, slow song for their first dance as man and wife. Morgana looked resplendent in her white wedding gown, her dark hair up in a sleek bun, a few strands framing her face. A gorgeous sapphire necklace glittered at her throat; a wedding present from Arthur. Leon looked equally handsome in all his finery, his dark blue tunic – his family colour – matching the jewel at his bride's neck. "Nauseatingly adorable, aren't they?" Arthur mused from his side, though there was a fond smile on his face. Harry laughed.

"They are that. You can't help but be happy for them, though," he remarked, and Arthur nodded.

"Hmm. I only wish my father had lived to see this; he always hoped Morgana would marry for love rather than status. Now she gets both, without having to negotiate messy alliances with other lands. No offense meant, of course," he added, making Harry smile wryly.

"None taken. What about you, if I might be so bold to ask? Any pretty young maiden with the hope of becoming the next Lady Pendragon?" he queried innocently. A faint flush came over Arthur's cheeks, and Harry caught the blonde's gaze flicking to Guinevere, who was watching her mistress with a happy smile. He smirked to himself, his suspicions confirmed.

"Oh, no, no one as of yet. Though you never know what the future brings, I suppose," Arthur said, a slightly wistful tone to his voice. Harry felt sorry for the man; too afraid of falling in love with the wrong person to see how wonderful it felt when he did. Harry wished, not for the first time, that they had been transported to his time rather than the other way around. He thought that Arthur, Merlin, Morgana and Gwen would have fared rather well in his era, once they surpassed the huge culture shock.

"I don't suppose either of you would care to dance with me? Prince Harry, King Arthur?" Morgana's amused voice cut in, and Harry looked up, startled to find the song had ended, and a new one had begun, allowing for a flood of couples to take to the floor. Harry grinned at the woman, giving her a polite bow before offering his arm.

"I would love to, my lady, if your husband does not mind?" he asked, directing his question towards Leon. The curly-haired man chuckled, shaking his head.

"Go ahead, sire; I will have plenty more opportunities to dance with my beautiful wife before the night is out," he pointed out with a grin. Morgana kissed his cheek, before taking Harry's arm, allowing the green-eyed man to lead her onto the dance floor. As they danced an easy waltz, Harry couldn't stop his eyes roaming the hall, looking out for the one person he truly wished he could dance with.

"He's by the table behind you, talking with Gaius," Morgana told him quietly, an amused smile tugging at her lips. Harry adopted a confused expression.

"I beg your pardon?" he inquired, making her laugh softly.

"Merlin. I know you're looking for him; your eyes always are. Does Arthur know of your inclinations towards his manservant?" Harry's eyes widened in alarm, and she offered a kind smile. "I won't tell anyone, don't worry. I think it's sweet," she assured him. Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, grinning at her.

"Arthur doesn't know, and until we gain some insight as to how he'd react, we'd prefer it to stay that way. I have to say, though, your reaction is encouraging," he said, the hope poorly hidden in his eyes. Morgana smiled at him, curtseying gracefully as the song ended, and he bowed in return.

"He's hotheaded and rash, but he's fond of Merlin, and I don't think he'll begrudge you two. Now go talk to your lover; I'll try and coerce the king into a dance," she added with a mischievous grin. He laughed, and they parted, Harry making his way towards the table where he could see Merlin and Gaius talking. Merlin's blue eyes locked on him as soon as he approached, and a wide smile spread across his face.

"Sire," he greeted, though there was an affectionate hint to the title.

"Merlin, Gaius," Harry greeted in reply, smiling back at the pair. "Gaius, would you mind terribly if I borrowed Merlin for a while? I wish to speak to him privately." Gaius smiled benevolently, a knowing glint in his eyes that made Harry think of another kindly old man who seemed to know more than he let on.

"Of course not, sire. Just don't let him have any more alcohol; he's already had his fair share," the elderly medic teased playfully, earning an affronted glare from his young ward. Harry chuckled, and waited for Merlin to stand, leading the way out of the main hall into a secluded, empty hallway. As soon as they were sure they were alone, Harry pushed Merlin up against the wall, pressing his lips hungrily to the younger man's. After a startled squeak of surprise, Merlin relaxed into the kiss, his hands gripping at the back of Harry's tunic as he kissed back.

"I wish I could dance with you in there in front of all those noblemen and women," Harry breathed into the man's pale neck when they parted, arms wrapped tightly around his lover.

"Yes, but we can't. We'd both be hanged," Merlin murmured in reply. Harry's mind cast back to his own time, where same-sex couples were as normal as breathing. He wished, not for the first time, that he knew a way to return, and he could take Merlin with him.

"One day, Merlin, it'll be us. One day, we'll get married," he vowed, his near-whisper startlingly loud in the silent hall. Merlin pulled back slightly, giving him a surprised look.

"How would we do that, then? It's not like people like us can just go and ask for permission to marry," he remarked with a small chuckle. Harry waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, I suppose we could always truss you up as a woman; I happen to think you'd look rather lovely in a dress." Merlin smacked him on the shoulder, rolling his eyes.

"Prat!" he exclaimed laughingly, and Harry grinned.

"I mean it, though," he said, suddenly becoming serious. "One day, we'll find some way to get married. Even if no one but us recognizes it, or we have to go to my time and then return here, I promise I'll make an honest man out of you." Merlin smiled at him, kissing the taller wizard chastely.

"I look forward to it."


	25. Harry/Leonard McCoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Krynny wants… 'Harry/Bones (Star Trek 2009) - Love; the Final Frontier' -

Doctor Leonard 'Bones' McCoy didn't place much stock in love. He'd tried it once, and it had backfired in his face; he didn't much fancy trying it again. He was perfectly happy being a kick-ass doctor for Starfleet, unfortunate best friend of Jim I-have-a-death-wish Kirk, and doting father of a seven year-old little girl who he didn't get to see nearly as much as he liked to. He didn't need anything else; at least, he thought he didn't.

Of course, things were never quite so simple.

"Bones! Hey, Bones! C'mon, man, Pike has someone he wants me to meet!" Jim exclaimed, bounding into their shared dorm at the Academy like a puppy on speed. Bones rolled his eyes, setting his PADD down on the bed at his side.

"And where do I come into that?" he asked wryly, raising an eyebrow at his best friend. Irritatingly, despite the fact that they'd saved the goddamn planet, they were still officially students, and as such, had to go back to 'normal' things such as classes, work, and attempting to recover after the loss of 85% of the upperclassmen, and many of the instructors. Okay, maybe that last one wasn't quite so normal, but they weren't exactly a normal bunch of students. Still, they all pitched in the best they could, teaching classes on top of their usual workload, and studying for finals. Of course, they were all pretty much assured they would pass their finals with flying colours, but most were never satisfied.

"You need to come with me, obviously! Pike will want you to make sure I don't corrupt whoever he's introducing me to," Jim pointed out, making Bones snort as he stood from the bed.

"Like I could stop you," he murmured, but joined his friend all the same, mentally frowning at the large dark circles under Jim's eyes. The blonde had taken on teaching eleven classes, as well as helping out with repairs all over the campus and shipyard, plus all the extra work due to his fast-tracked course, plus about a million other random projects that Bones had no idea what they were about. He was honestly surprised the damn kid hadn't collapsed.

They met Pike at his office; the elder man was out of the wheelchair, but still used a cane to walk, and as such had been saddled with much of the desk work and admin, something he definitely didn't appreciate. "Come in!" he called when Jim knocked, and the blonde pushed the door open. Pike was sat behind the desk, and in one of the chairs opposite was a young man, about Jim's age, with jet-black hair and the greenest eyes Bones had ever seen. He was pale and thin, but not painfully so, and looked like he had a good amount of muscle under the Science Blues he was dressed in. Stylish black-framed glasses were perched on his nose, and he was smiling shyly.

"Good, Jim, you brought Leonard. Someone will need to keep you two out of trouble, and it'll be good to let you two get to know each other, seeing as you'll be working together in future," Pike explained, making Bones raise an eyebrow curiously. "This is Harry Potter, a friend of mine who's been working on a… special project for the past year. I've assigned him to work under Dr McCoy on the Enterprise, and I wanted to clear it with both her captain and her CMO." It took a moment before Pike's words processed in Bones' mind, and he stared at the man with wide eyes.

"I can keep her?" Jim asked, awed, and Pike nodded with a slight smile.

"Yes, Jim, you can keep her. The board discussed it, and you're the best man for the job. Now; go take Harry, introduce him to your friends and the other professors, give him a tour of campus… you know the drill. And I expect him back in one piece!"

.-.-.

After three months working on the Enterprise, Bones was almost ready to admit that maybe there was something special about Dr Harry James Potter. The man had a brilliant mind, a charmingly polite bedside manner, a sarcastic wit that complimented Bones' own, and damn if he wasn't the most gorgeous creature he'd ever seen. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone. Ever.

Still, he was Leonard McCoy, and he didn't do relationships. He didn't do fuck-buddies, he didn't do dating, and he _definitely_ didn't do love.

"Fancy coming over to my quarters for a drink after shift?" Harry asked with a small grin, bumping shoulders with the elder doctor. Bones looked up from the chart he was eyeing, and managed a half-smile in return.

"You still got that bottle of whisky I got you last Christmas?" he asked in reply. Harry laughed, nodding.

"Yeah, kept it for you. Just wander over whenever you feel like it." And Bones would never, _ever_ admit to staring at the man's ass as he walked away.

Still, he found himself entering Harry's quarters later that evening, having showered, dressed in decent clothes, and actually put on some goddamn cologne. Yeah, maybe the river Denial wasn't so easy to swim after all. Still, he stubbornly assured himself that Harry was just a friend, same as Jim. _Yes, but you don't fantasize about screwing Jim six ways from Sunday, do you?_ A voice whispered traitorously in his mind.

Harry poured him a drink, and the two sat on Harry's comfortable little couch, Harry sitting cross-legged, one of his knees against Bones' thigh. They talked about everything and nothing for a good hour, until Harry let out a sigh, causing Bones to raise an eyebrow. "What's that for?" he asked. Harry just smiled slightly at him, a glint in his eyes that Bones couldn't quite place. The younger man was wearing his glasses for once; he normally stuck to contacts.

"How long are we going to do this, Len?" he asked, slightly wearily. The Southern man shot him a confused look, and Harry rolled his eyes. "This! You and me working together and being friends and sharing a drink after shift and pretending we don't fancy the pants off each other!" he exclaimed heatedly. Bones' jaw dropped slightly, eyes widening.

"You... what?" he croaked, and Harry gave him another pointed look.

"Don't lie, Len; I've heard the rumours, I've seen the way you look at me, and I happen to know you fancy me rather a lot. I also happen to know that I feel the same; so can we please stop doing this bloody dance and just give in to it? Anything could happen on this ship; I don't want something to happen before I can tell you how I feel," he added quietly. Bones' heart clenched slightly; they were clearly both thinking of the previous week, when Harry had gone on an away mission and returned with four less pints of blood.

"Harry, I… Oh, hell," he muttered to himself, leaning forward and capturing the younger man's lips. Harry kissed back eagerly, and Bones felt his heart warm in a not entirely uncomfortable way as their chests pressed together, the kiss deepening.

Okay, maybe he did do love after all. But only in special circumstances.


	26. Harry/Sirius/Remus (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Hendrick248848 wants… 'Harry/Sirius/Remus' -

Okay, this was not supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to have been thrust back in time to his parents' seventh year, he wasn't supposed to have been sorted into Gryffindor in the same dorm as the Marauders, and he _definitely_ wasn't supposed to be crushing on not only his future godfather, but his future godfather's boyfriend, who also happened to be one of his father's best friends, and a surrogate godfather to him. No. That _really_ was not a good idea.

Harry sighed, leaning his head on his hand, elbow propped on the tabletop, eyes fixed on the couple slow-dancing a few feet away. The couple was not, as one might have expected, James Potter and Lily Evans, his future parents, but instead he couldn't tear his gaze away from a certain two boys by the names of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Merlin, they were incredible. Yes, he'd admittedly found them quite attractive in his own time, but this… Sirius didn't yet have the haunted, gaunt look to his face that Azkaban would bring, and he was the epitome of the pureblood aristocrat. High, defined cheekbones, lightly tanned skin, glossy black hair, and one hell of a body. But what Harry loved about him were his eyes; the almost glittering quality to the silver-grey eyes that in his time were dull and lifeless. He could easily stare into those eyes for hours, not that he got the chance very often.

As for Remus, well, he actually looked like he took care of himself. Harry knew that part of it was due to having three good meals a day and the security that Hogwarts provided, but it was also because he had his friends, and his boyfriend, and hadn't yet suffered the tragedy that he would in a few short years. His sandy blonde hair was messy, yet in a stylish way, and his pale skin wasn't as scarred as it would become in future. He was still thin, but healthily so, with a fair amount of muscle that Harry couldn't help but notice. His amber eyes were warm and alive, like pools of hot treacle, and Harry loved the way he lit up when he was explaining something to his friends and classmates, particularly if it was DADA related. Harry could completely understand why the teen wanted to be a teacher, and knew from previous experience that he was a brilliant one.

Still, they only had eyes for each other; they liked Harry well enough, but from what he was aware of, neither of them had any inclinations towards him sexually. His heart clenched as Sirius dipped Remus dramatically, causing a few scattered chuckles and an attractive blush to rise on the werewolf's cheeks. "Go talk to them," a voice urged in his ear, and he startled, not having realized that Lily and James had stopped dancing, and Lily was now sat beside him. She looked beautiful in her emerald green dress, and was grinning happily.

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence. Lily rolled her eyes.

"Sirius and Remus; go talk to them. I know you're head over heels for both of them, you might be pleasantly surprised as to their reactions to such news," she informed him. He raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Are you trying to tell me they fancy me back? Don't be ridiculous, Lils. They have each other, why would they want me?" he commented morosely. She gave him a glare, which quickly melted into a sympathetic look, and wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh, sweetheart," she murmured, "why _wouldn't_ they want you? You're smart, and funny, and completely sweet, and have somehow gained the ability to put up with Sirius' idiocy. Not to mention, you're pretty easy on the eyes," she added with a wink. Harry frowned, attempting to pull away from her.

"Stop it, Lils. I'm really not in the mood tonight; I'd quite like to just go back to the dorm and sleep and pretend I don't wish I was with them," he told her.

"Hadrian Jameson, if you don't get your head out your arse and stop moping and realise that they actually like you back, I swear, I'll hex you into the next decade!" she growled in irritation. Harry almost told her that that wouldn't be such a bad idea, but held himself in check; no one could know where he was truly from.

"I'm not going to alienate myself by telling two of my friends that I'm completely in love with them. Just leave it alone, will you, Lils. Please?" he asked desperately. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but sometimes you've just got to be cruel to be kind," she told him with a sweet smile, before forcibly lifting him from his chair and pushing him towards Sirus and Remus, who were dancing close by. He stumbled into them, and blushed as they gave him odd looks.

"Well hello there, handsome; what has you falling at our feet?" Sirius greeted with a roguish grin, making Harry blush even brighter and Remus roll his eyes.

"Uh, nothing, just Lily getting a bit mad at me. You know," he said with a weak laugh. Sirius sniggered at him.

"Oh, all too well. Since you're here, fancy a dance? Remus and I happen to be rather proficient at the three-way tango." He said this with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, and Harry tried to stop the flood of images that were conjured at his words. He didn't doubt they were.

"Oh, no, I'm not much of a dancer," he insisted, moving to leave, but Remus reached out and clasped Harry's wrist.

"Why don't we just go for a walk? I could do with some air," he suggested. Harry shrugged, and Sirius grinned, slinging an arm around Remus' waist.

"As my Moony dearest wishes!" he agreed dramatically, grinning. Harry couldn't help but smile slightly, relaxing as they strolled out into the courtyard. Everything was decorated for Christmas, faeries flitting from bush to bush with musical giggles. Sirius' other arm crept around Harry's waist, and the green-eyed teen allowed it, still blushing slightly. His mind cast back to Lily's words; she couldn't be right, could she? What the hell would either of them see in a guy like him?

"It's a beautiful night," Remus murmured quietly. Harry hummed in agreement, and moved to take a step, only to find his feet stuck to the floor. The other two were also in the same predicament, and they frowned.

"Mistletoe!" Sirius realised, looking upwards. Sure enough, a sprig of the damned plant was hovering above their heads. Harry nearly groaned; just brilliant.

"Why did it get all three of us, though? Usually it only works for two people," Remus pointed out. Sirius shrugged.

"I guess we're just special. Shall we?" With that, he planted a smacking great kiss on Remus' lips, smirking. Harry's eyes widened as he realized what would happen next, but Sirius' lips were on his before he could say anything. Sirius' lips were soft, and tasted almost spicy, like cinnamon. Harry moaned as the other teen deepened the kiss, their tongues exploring tentatively. When they parted, Sirius winked at him, and Harry blushed.

"My turn," Remus told him quietly. Unlike Sirius, he met Harry's eyes first, silently asking if it was okay. Harry nodded slightly, dazed, and then felt Remus' lips covering his own. Remus' kiss was more gentle than Sirius', but no less intense; the werewolf tasted of chocolate, which wasn't surprising considering the amount he ate. Eventually, they broke apart, and there was a long silence. "You know, I would rather quite like to do that again," Remus said softly, eyeing Harry. Sirius nodded in agreement, his hand in Remus', and Harry's eyes went wide.

"Really?" he breathed, and the couple nodded, each holding out a hand for Harry to take. The Gryffindor did so, barely able to think as the two of them kissed him once more, whispering words of affection in his ear, even as Sirius suggested they head back to the dorm.

And, the next morning, Harry rose from between Sirius and Remus to give Lily a large hug, exclaiming his thanks for reasons the other boys couldn't quite fathom, and declaring the previous night the best Christmas ever.


	27. Harry/England

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Mugga wants… 'Harry/England (Hetalia) - Patriot' -

Harry fell into step easily beside his fellow soldiers, the perfectly synchronized march as easy to him as breathing. He couldn't stop the smile from creeping over his face as he started firmly ahead, seeing Her Majesty the Queen stood beside her husband at the top of the steps, both Harry and Wills in their dress uniforms on either side of their grandparents. As Harry and his comrades came to a swift halt at the bottom of the steps, the band's music stopped, and the Queen stepped up to the microphone. "Today we have gathered here to celebrate the end of the war against the forces of Voldemort, and reward those who were vital to the battle, placing their lives on the line in ways we can only imagine to protect their family, their friends, and most importantly, their country…"

.-.-.

Harry grinned across the room at Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was stood behind the muggle Prime Minister stoically. The tall man smiled back slightly, nodding towards him, and Harry turned, only to find himself face to face with a handsome man in full WWII military dress uniform, several medals glinting at his breast. He was unfamiliar, and Harry frowned curiously; he was far too young to have fought in WWII, he barely looked older than Harry himself. "Your story has become legend in many circles, Brigadier Potter. You're a very respected man," he remarked neutrally. Harry shrugged bashfully at the man, his stance square and straight, respectful in the face of someone who was clearly his superior. He could see a Field Marshall's insignia on his tunic, and his eyebrows rose slightly. Just who was this man?

"I did what I had to do, sir," he replied simply, making the blonde smile wryly.

"Yes, that's usually how it goes. Still, you did a lot more than most would have. You deserve that medal more than anyone else in this room, I'd imagine," the blonde told him, directing a glance towards the Victoria Cross on Harry's breast. Harry blushed slightly, lowering his head.

"Thank you, sir, but really; I did what anyone else would have done in my position," he insisted. The blonde chuckled, smiling at him.

"No, Brigadier, I don't think you did. Many a man would run and hide in the face of a wizard such as Voldemort." Harry's eyes widened dramatically.

"You know about magic?" he asked, voice low. The muggles – other than those 'in the know' such as the royal family and the Prime Minister – had been fed some story about Voldemort being a dictator free of any military or national affiliations, who was using new, high-tech weaponry to get his way. Harry had been forcefully subscripted by Vernon on his sixteenth birthday, and transferred to a special magical branch of the army when they realized who he was. He'd foregone his last two years of Hogwarts, finding that he was far better prepared for his NEWTs if he stayed with the army, and the muggles had been told that they were a special branch that dealt with the same weaponry as Voldemort's forces. They were now all being hailed as the main heroes of the war in both the wizarding and muggle worlds, with the Order of the Phoenix members also gaining recognition in the wizarding world.

"Of course I know about magic! Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I've forgotten to introduce myself! Arthur Kirkland, pleasure to meet you," the blonde added with a small smile, holding out a hand. Harry shook it, eyeing the man curiously.

"Kirkland? There's rumours about you, y'know, throughout the higher ups," he told him. Far from being insulted, Arthur gave a bemused grin.

"Oh? And what do they say about me?" he queried. Harry bit his lip, unsure if he should tell the man.

"Well, sir, they say you're immortal, that you've been here for as long as anyone can remember, and never changed a bit. Even Oldfield remembers seeing you from his very first battle, and that was the Charge of the Light Brigade." Far from being offended, Arthur chuckled, smiling ruefully.

"Yes, Oldfield is getting on a bit, isn't he? And what do you think?"

"It's not my place to say, sir," Harry replied automatically, earning a roll of the eyes from Arthur.

"Please, Brigadier; forget rank for a moment, pretend we're just two people talking, just Arthur and Harry – might I call you Harry? Now tell me, what do you think on the matter?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I think you're like Francis," Harry told him. "Francis Bonnefoy." This time, it was Arthur's turn to be surprised.

"You've met Francis?" he asked in surprise, inadvertently confirming Harry's suspicions.

"Yeah, I spent some time negotiating with the French ministry over reinforcements and was introduced to him by a friend of a friend. He still writes, when he has the time. So, am I right? You're England, as he's France?" Harry pressed. Arthur nodded, green eyes fixed on Harry with an inquisitive stare.

"If Francis has stayed in touch, he must find something interesting about you. I must say, I know I do," he said, voice dropping slightly. Harry blushed.

"You flatter me, sir," he mumbled bashfully. Arthur shook his head slightly.

"What did I say about calling me Arthur? But I'm serious; from what I've seen, and from what Her Majesty has told me about you, you're a very intriguing man. I find myself wishing to learn more," he confessed. Harry smiled slightly.

"Francis said you'd do this. He always told me I'd captivate you if we ever met," he told him slightly shyly. Arthur chuckled.

"Yes, well, I may not like the man, but he does know me well. So what do you say; care to meet me for dinner tomorrow?" he offered. Harry's cheeks flushed faintly, but he managed a mischievous smile.

"I think you'd better ask me to dance, first, sir," he replied cheekily. Arthur laughed, then gave him a small bow, holding out a hand.

"Would you do me the honour of this dance, Brigadier Potter?" he requested. Harry smiled at the blonde as he took his hand.

"It would be my pleasure, Field Marshall Kirkland," he replied equally as formally. Arthur led him to the dance floor, and there were some surprised stares and more than a few camera flashes as the two took their position, performing an easy waltz around the floor. Harry made a mental note to write to Francis and tell him that he was right, and couldn't stop the grin from tugging at his lips as he saw Prince Harry give him a devilish wink and a jaunty salute, which Harry returned with a smile. He could quite firmly say he'd never been so happy to serve his country in his life.


	28. Harry/Kingsley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Nightfairy79 wants… 'Harry/Kingsley' -

"You're not trying hard enough, Potter!" Harry growled at the shout, gritting his teeth and shooting off another three silent spells in quick succession.

"I'm giving it all I've got! Can't we take a break?" he protested, his breath coming in harsh pants.

"Voldemort won't let you take a break, boy!" Moody argued, blocking his spells easily. Harry glared at the old auror, rolling under a barrage of spells and springing to his feet at Kingsely's side, lashing out with a foot to sweep under his feet. Kingsley jumped away from the attack, swinging a fist at Harry's jaw in retaliation, and Harry yelped as the blow caught him unawares, a sharp crack piercing the air.

"Time!" Tonks called, and at last the attackers lowered their wands, Kingsley ducking down to Harry's side.

"You alright?" he asked in concern, wincing as Harry attempted to respond, only for blood to drip from his mouth, jaw unmoving. "Fuck… episkey," Kingsley murmured, waving his wand towards Harry's jaw. Another loud crack sounded as the jaw snapped back into place, healing instantly, and Harry hissed in pain, spitting a mouthful of blood on the floor. "Shit, I'm sorry," he said softly, gently cupping Harry's jaw with a large hand, testing it carefully. Harry's cheeks flushed slightly, his eyes lowering.

"It's fine, I've had worse. I just wish I could get it!" he muttered in frustration.

"You've only been going for a month, Harry; you can't expect it to come naturally. It takes practice," Remus insisted, holding out a hand to help the teenager up. Harry shot him a look.

"I don't have time, Remus! Voldemort's forces are growing, they could attack any day now! They're all expertly trained Dark Wizards, and what am I? A little kid playing with the big boys and getting his arse handed to him every five minutes!" he exclaimed angrily. Kingsley's long arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind, holding him in place as he struggled.

"Easy, easy. You're forgetting that the 'big boys' handing your arse to you are the best in the business. Quite frankly, the fact that you're able to last five minutes after only a month is incredible. Stressing yourself out about it won't help any; you've got to relax and let the magic flow, rather than trying to force it. You've got power by the bucketload, you just need to learn how to use it," he said calmly, his baritone voice right in Harry's ear. Harry slumped in the mans arms, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"I know, I just… I need to do _more_. I need to be _better_ than this. Everyone's expecting me to be the hero, to save them. I can't let them down, Kingsley!" Harry didn't notice as Remus met Kingsley's eyes and nodded slightly, before quietly excusing himself from the room. Tonks and Moody, not ones to stick around, were already gone, leaving just Harry and Kingsley in the room. Kingsley slid a finger under Harry's newly-healed jaw, turning the seventeen year-old's head to face him. Tears were shining in Harry's eyes, and he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Harry," Kingsley breathed, a concerned frown crossing his lips. "No one is expecting you to be anything more than you are. Yes, there might be some people who tell you that you should be doing something more; they're strangers, they don't know you, and their opinions don't matter. Those around you, those who love you, know that you're doing everything you can. You need to slow things down a little, Harry. You're pushing yourself too hard; I know you're not sleeping, and Molly says you're not eating much at mealtimes. Everyone's worrying about you, Harry, it's not healthy to keep going the way you are," he told him quietly. Harry met his eyes, anguished.

"What else am I supposed to do, Kingsley? I don't have the time to slow things down. I need to be ready," he said, voice helpless. Kingsley ran a gentle hand through Harry's hair, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to the teen's lips, catching him by surprise. Leaning their foreheads together, he cupped the back of Harry's neck, snaking one arm around his waist.

"Let someone take care of you, for a change. You've spent so long being strong, being everybody's rock… it's your turn to have someone to lean on," he told him, gently stroking the skin at the nape of Harry's neck with his thumb.

"Kingsley, we can't… I probably won't make it past my eighteenth, I'm not starting anything only to leave you alone," Harry insisted in a breathy whisper, finally voicing the reason he'd been dancing around the older man for weeks. Kingsley's frown deepened, and he pulled away slightly, meeting Harry's eyes with a determined gaze.

"You _will_ live to your eighteenth, Harry James Potter. You will live through this war, you will defeat Voldemort, you will finish Hogwarts, and you will go on to do whatever you put your mind to. And damn it, Harry, you've got to stop pushing me out! It's my choice, too, and I'm telling you I don't care. I'd rather have this time with you now, than have the option taken from me and spend the rest of my life wishing we'd at least tried. But none of that matters, because you're going to survive, you hear me?" he declared fiercely, never breaking Harry's gaze. Harry's lips curled into a tentative half-smile, though his eyes showed Kingsley that it was forced. "Please, Harry, why are we doing this? I love you, and I know you love me; why can't we just accept the fact that we're both at risk and go for it anyway? Look at Remus and Severus, they're both right in the thick of things, and they're not ignoring each other!" he pointed out desperately. Harry's fingers tightened on the front of Kingsley's t-shirt, and he shuffled closer, cutting off Kingsley's protests with a short, sweet kiss, smiling fleetingly at him and resting his head against the tall man's shoulder. Kingsley grinned back at him, wrapping Harry up in his arms and pulling him onto his lap.

"I'm scared, Kingsley," Harry admitted in a near-silent whisper. Kingsley merely held him tighter, kissing his forehead.

"I know, love. Me too."


	29. Harry/The Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Chineseartist wants… Harry/Doctor 'Travel' -

Harry removed a gloved hand from his pocket, reaching up to press the doorbell. Hugging his thick winter coat tighter around himself, he waited, the door opening a few moments later. "Can I help you?" a teenage boy asked politely, a curious look on his face as he stared at Harry. Harry squeezed the arm that was wrapped loosely around Teddy's shoulders, allowing himself a brief half-smile at the Santa hat perched jauntily atop the unfamiliar teen's head.

"I'm looking for a Miss Sarah-Jane Smith; am I in the right place?" he asked, and a look of comprehension flickered across the teen's face at his words.

"Yeah, she's just in the other room. Mum!" he called, turning to face inside the house. An eyebrow raised at that, but Harry smiled slightly, his expression brightening as a familiar, yet older, face appeared from a door further down the hallway. She smiled warmly at her son, then turned her gaze to the open door, her jaw dropping slightly as she caught sight of him.

"Hello, Sarah-Jane. Sorry to just drop in like this; I just wanted to get here in time to tell you Merry Christmas," he said with a sheepish shrug.

"Harry? Is that really you! Oh my word, you've not changed a bit!" she exclaimed, rushing forward with a bright smile. Harry released Teddy in order to pull the older woman into a tight hug, lifting her off her feet.

"Look at you! You're beautiful!" he cried happily once he'd put her down, his hands in hers. She chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"I'm old!" she said, waving him off. "But look at you! Still don't look a day over nineteen! What are you doing here? How did you find me? Oh, come in, come in, get yourself out of the cold! And who's this young man?" she asked, her eyes landing on Teddy. "He's not yours, is he?" Her gaze flickered to the boy's jet-black hair and green eyes, and Harry laughed.

"No, but as good as; he's my godson, Teddy. Remember, I told you about him? He's thirteen, now," he explained. "His grandmother doesn't like me having him – thinks I'm irresponsible and reckless – but now he's getting older she doesn't really have an excuse. What about you, then? A son?" he retorted, allowing himself to be led into a cosy living room, where two other teenagers – presumably her son's friends – were sat on the sofa, eyeing him curiously.

"Oh, that's Luke! Again, not biologically mine, but as good as; a run-in with the Bane, it's a bit of a long story. And this is Clyde and Rani, Luke's friends. Oh, Harry, but what are you doing here? Are you… are you not travelling with him?" she asked tentatively. A slightly sad smile crossed Harry's lips, and he shook his head.

"He regenerated twice more, before the Time Lords called him back to fight in the war. He left me back in the sixties and told me he'd come back for me, but… I've not seen hide nor hair of him since. I've been travelling the world – didn't want to be too tempted to change things by staying in Britain – and when my timelines finally matched up, I slipped back in as if I'd never left. Teddy here is the only one who knows the truth," he added, squeezing Teddy's shoulder.

"Oh, Harry…" Sarah-Jane breathed, but he shook his head.

"He'll find me eventually; you know what his timing is like. But I wouldn't be surprised if he got grounded planetside as soon as he returned, seeing as they've waited so long to catch him. He's not dead, though. I'd feel it if he were," he declared surely, and Sarah-Jane gave him a smile.

"Of course he's not dead, I didn't think he was. Still… how long has it been for you since we last met?" she queried. Harry pursed his lips, thinking.

"Eighty? Eighty-five? I've lost track, quite honestly. It's been far too long, though," he added with a grin, hugging her once more. "I've missed you!"

"Mum? I don't mean to interrupt, but… who's he?" Luke asked tentatively from his place near the doorway.

"Luke, this is Harry Potter; we travelled together with the Doctor. Harry and he were… together. Still are, I suppose, when he gets back. Did you say he regenerated twice more? What did he look like?" she inquired in interest, turning back to Harry. He grinned at her.

"Both with awful fashion sense; even worse than the cricket gear. Number six had really crazy hair, almost an afro, and number seven had short dark hair. He was very odd. I did like them both, but… he was still most handsome back when he was blonde. He's probably regenerated again at least once, though, knowing him," he added with a fond smile. She laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, probably. Why don't you both stay for a while? I'll put the kettle on; Teddy, do you prefer tea or hot chocolate?" she asked, looking towards the boy. He smiled shyly at her.

"Tea, please, ma'am," he requested.

"None of that; call me Sarah-Jane, please. The way Harry used to talk about you, I feel like I've known you for years!" she insisted with a small laugh. "It was always 'my godson can do this' and 'the other day, Teddy did that'. He doted on you! Always begging the Doctor to bring us home just for a little bit so he could go and see you." Teddy smirked at that, glancing up at Harry, who smiled abashedly.

"Yeah, dad does that. Traipsing off halfway across the planet for his adventures every five minutes, but he's never missed Christmas, my birthday or sending me off to school at the beginning of the year," Teddy said with a grin. Sarah-Jane's eyes widened briefly at the use of the word 'dad', but she continued to beam at them both.

"That sounds like him," she said, giving Harry a rueful smile. "Make yourselves at home, both of you, I'll go get that tea. I want to hear everything you've done since we last saw each other, Harry. And I especially want to know why it's taken you this long to come and find me!" she added with a stern look. Harry held his hands up defensively.

"I was busy! Besides, I didn't even know where you were until a couple of weeks ago! You're a hard woman to find, Miss Smith, especially for an old traveler with no roots or contacts to ply for information!" This earned him a smack on the arm and a pointed look, and he grinned. "Oh, it's good to see you again, Sarah-Jane!" he murmured with a nostalgic smile. She gave him a sympathetic look, clasping his shoulder gently.

"He'll find you, just give him time," she insisted, making Harry snort.

"He's a Time Lord, sweetheart; time is something he has an abundance of."


	30. Harry/Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Otakufanlover and Hope Night want… 'Harry/Jack/Ianto (Torchwood) - "I don't want to come between you two… or do I?' -

Harry grinned as he tucked his feet up under himself, his plate of curry balanced on his thighs. "Oh, and remember back when Albus thought it would be fun to have everyone in the school in the Great Hall for a sleepover, back in my fifth year? Merlin, that was chaos!" Ianto laughed, trying to keep his mouthful of food from making a repeat appearance, shooting a glare at Harry.

"Do _not_ remind me of something that hilarious when I have food in my mouth," he warned, making Harry snicker. "But, all I remember from that night is Fred and George sneaking in a ton of Firewhiskey, and having a very nice snogging session with one of them… or both of them, I'm not entirely sure," he added with a thoughtful frown.

"Ianto, you player!" Harry exclaimed teasingly, and Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Says the guy who dated both of them for most of that year. Why did that end, by the way? You three always seemed so great together," he mused, and Harry gave a bittersweet sort of smile.

"They graduated, and I didn't want them to be tied down to a guy that was still in Hogwarts. You know the twins; they hate boundaries. It was alright when they were still in Hogwarts, as they saw me every day, but… they would have hated only being able to see me at Hogsmeade weekends, and we all agreed it was probably better that we split. I loved them both – still do a little bit – but we're all better off for it, now. They've got Oliver, and they're happy," he explained.

"And what about you? Are you happy?" Ianto asked, frowning slightly. Harry gave him a wry, pointed look.

"I'm not about to go beg them to take me back, if that's what you mean. There are times when I wonder 'what if?', but that never helped anyone, and I wouldn't dream of saying anything to them. I've seen them with Oliver; all three of them are besotted. I'm happy for them, I wouldn't spoil it with my absent musings. All three of us have moved on," he assured Ianto.

"Moved on? You got some secret boyfriend hiding under your bed?" Ianto joked, and Harry elbowed him in the ribs.

"Stuff it, you," he muttered, mock-annoyed. Suddenly, Ianto heard the lock on the door click, and smiled when he saw the door open to reveal Jack. He looked visibly tired, his shoulders slumped, and something Ianto couldn't recognize flickered in his eyes as he looked at them.

"Oh, hey Harry, I didn't know you'd be here," he greeted, shrugging off his coat with a slight wince, toeing his boots of.

"Yeah, Ianto and I ordered Indian. You alright? You look like crap," Harry said in concern, eyeing his friend with worry. Jack gave a weak chuckle, accepting the kiss Ianto leaned up to bestow on him.

"Yeah, the Weevils got a little grumpy tonight. I'm gonna go to bed; you coming, Ianto?" he asked, running a gentle hand through Ianto's hair.

"In a bit; I'm gonna stay up and chat with Harry for a little longer, if that's alright?" Ianto replied. Jack faltered slightly, but Ianto didn't notice, smiling and kissing Jack once more.

"Sure; don't stay up too late," Jack murmured, giving the pair a long look before retreating to the bedroom.

.-.-.

"Wow, Jack, you look terrible! Have you been sleeping?" Harry exclaimed with a low whistle as he saw Jack emerge from the bunker underneath his office. Jack gave him a dark glare, rubbing at his unshaven jaw.

"What's it to you?" he growled, and Harry shot him a look.

"Alright, no need to get snappy. Seriously, Jack, go back to bed; you're no use to us like this," he insisted.

"Who died and made you boss? Damn it, Harry, just leave it alone! You've already done enough!" he blurted before he could help himself. Harry froze.

"What have I done?" he asked, genuinely confused. Jack snorted harshly.

"Oh, come on, don't play dumb. If you're going to steal my boyfriend, you could at least have the grace to be upfront about it. You fucked him yet, or what?" he snarled. Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"I- what? Me and Ianto? What the hell gives you that idea?" he asked, surprised.

"Maybe the fact that every time I've come home the past two weeks, you've been there. Every time I try and make a date with Ianto, he already has plans with you. I can't even sleep anymore, because I'm lying there next to him wondering if he's done the same with you!" Jack shouted. Harry shook his head frantically.

"No! Merlin, no, Jack it's not like that! I… hang on. IANTO!" Harry yelled, sticking his head out of Jack's office door. The Welshman looked up, and Harry jerked a thumb. "Get your arse up here!" With a slight frown, Ianto jogged up the stairs and entered the office, eyeing the pair with trepidation.

"What's going on? Jack, are you okay?" he asked worriedly, rushing to his boyfriend's side. Jack flinched away, giving the younger man a glare.

"Don't touch me," he snapped, causing Ianto to pause, hurt.

"Jack, what?"

"Jack thinks you're leaving him for me," Harry revealed, and Ianto's eyes widened.

"What? Jack, that's ridiculous! Harry is my friend, you're my boyfriend!" he protested, and Jack raised an eyebrow.

"I've seen the way you look at each other when you think the other isn't looking; could you honestly tell me you wouldn't screw him? Either of you?" Neither Harry nor Ianto spoke, and Jack snorted bitterly. "I thought so. Well, Ianto, it was nice while it lasted," he began, but Harry threw out a hand.

"No, Jack, wait! I don't want to come between you two!" he insisted. Suddenly, he paused, and a slow smirk came over his face. "Or do I?" he murmured quietly to himself. Ianto gave him a curious look.

"That's your idea face. What have you thought of?" he asked, and Harry smiled at the couple.

"Well, you know the only real relationship I've had was a triad with the Weasley twins… Ianto, I know damn well you got with both of them, and have had threesomes before, and Jack, I highly doubt that with all your stories, you've never been in a long-term triad. Why don't we give it a go?" he suggested. Jack gave him a confused look.

"All three of us? But… you only like Ianto," he began, and Harry snorted.

"Oh, you daft twat, how have you not noticed that I've been staring at you as much as I've been staring at Ianto? Apologies for eyeing up your boyfriend, Yan, but he's bloody gorgeous, and if I'm honest, I've wanted to be a part of what you two have for weeks now. I'm sorry if I'm intruding, but… the offer is out there. I think we could work, the three of us," he urged, taking a step towards the two. They were both silent for a long moment, before Ianto spoke.

"I'm in if Jack is. I'd like to try a relationship with you, Harry, but I love Jack, and I won't do anything he's not comfortable with," he said seriously, sliding his hand into Jack's. He smiled when the other man didn't pull away, and Jack sighed, directing a tentative smile towards both Harry and Ianto.

"Let's do it. It's been a while since I've been in a triad, but… I believe you when you say this could work."


	31. Harry/DiNozzo/Gibbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- Hendrick248848 wants… 'Tony/Harry/Gibbs' -

Tucking the blanket further up his chin, Harry sniffed loudly, wiping at his nose with a tissue. His throat felt like it had been attacked with a cheese grater, and his head was pounding. Flicking his wrist, he smirked, watching the DVD eject itself and the next one slide into the player; he loved magic. Hearing the door click open, he smiled slightly, craning his neck as his lovers walked through the door. "Hey, beautiful," Tony greeted with a concerned smile. "How are you feeling?" Harry shrugged, his movement shrouded mostly by the mass of blankets covering him.

"Like curling up in a hole and dying would be a relief," he replied, his voice raspy and quiet. Tony frowned, running a gentle hand through Harry's hair.

"Oh, babe, I wish I could make it better, I really do," he murmured, kissing the scorching hot forehead. Harry smiled weakly at him, leaning into the cool touch.

"I know. I'll be okay in a couple of days, I'm sure. Where's Jeth?" he queried, tilting his head slightly to rest it against Tony's wrist.

"Making you tea." Harry smiled at that, and Tony played with the messy strands of black hair. "Come on, why don't you take some of these blankets off for a little while? You must be boiling." Harry shrugged, but allowed Tony to peel away most of the blankets, leaving him with one patchwork quilt that had been a Christmas present from Molly Weasley. "What you watching?"

"Iron Man," Harry replied, and Tony grinned.

"Robert Downey Jr and Gweneth Paltrow; you, my dear, have very good taste. Give me a second." Harry watched bemusedly as Tony toed off his shoes and unbelted his trousers, folding them and slinging them neatly over the back of the armchair. His jacket followed that, and then he unbuttoned his shirt, leaving him in just socks and boxers. "Shift up; I'll keep you warm," he urged, tapping Harry's thigh. Harry wriggled to the side slightly, holding the blanket open, and Tony crawled in behind him, wrapping his arms around Harry. With some highly practiced wriggling, they both got comfortable, Harry's head pillowed on Tony's arm, their legs intertwined comfortably. Tony pressed a kiss to Harry's neck, smirking mischievously. "Think we should let Jeth join us, or claim there's no room?" he asked playfully, unaware of the man walking up behind the couch. Harry, who could sense the other man's presence, grinned.

"I think you should shut your trap and watch the movie, DiNozzo," Jethro retorted, and Tony froze.

"Sorry, Jeth," he called with a grin, not sounding particularly sorry at all. Jethro merely snorted, setting the mug of tea down on the coffee table.

"How's sleeping beauty?" he asked, looking towards Harry, who sighed, sniffing once more.

"Still sick. Merlin, I feel like crap," he groaned. Jethro reached out and pressed the back of his hand to Harry's forehead, wincing. "Damn, you're burning up," he said, and Harry nodded.

"Still feel cold, though. Warm me up?" he asked hopefully. Jethro, unable to resist the eyes, nodded, stripping himself to a similar state to Tony and picking up Harry, laying down and resting the smaller man on his chest Tony curled into Jethro's side, kissing his lover's cheek, and Harry grinned, pressing a small butterfly kiss to Jethro's bare chest. "Hello," he greeted quietly, grinning. Jethro smiled back tangling his hand in Harry's hair.

"Hey. What are we watching?" he asked, tilting his head so he could see the TV.

"Iron Man," Harry replied, using a little nudge of magic to press down the play button.

"Lazy," Tony teased, and Harry nudged him playfully.

"I'm ill, give me a break," he retorted. The movie started to play, but before they could really get anywhere, the three heard the door open, and Harry looked up to see Abby bound through the doorway, a white paper bag with a suspiciously soup-shaped carton inside. She froze when she saw the three of them curled up on the couch together, and grinned.

"Aww, that's so cute you guys! I just came to see how Harry was doing and drop off this soup. How are you feeling sweetie?" she asked, using the same voice she occasionally used to talk to her dog. Harry managed a small smile at the exuberant woman, reaching up to squeeze her hand in lieu of a hug.

"Terrible. Thanks for the soup; it's about the only thing I can keep down right now," he admitted. She frowned, and Harry could tell she was physically restraining herself from hugging him.

"Aww, you poor thing! Do you want me to go and give you guys some alone time, or…" she trailed off, but before they could say anything, there was a knock on the door even as it opened. McGee peered sheepishly around the doorframe, shortly followed by Ziva, and Jethro looked up in surprise.

"Someone plan a party and not tell me?" he asked, eyeing his guests the best he could with Harry still on his chest.

"Just, uh, came to see if Harry was feeling any better, boss," McGee stuttered, and Harry smiled at him.

"That's sweet; stay. We're watching Iron Man," he told them, gesturing to the spair chairs. Abby grinned, shifting Tony and Jethro's clothes off the back of the chair before setting herself down in it, kicking off her platform heels.

"Awesome; Robert Downey Jr is so hot," she said with a grin, and Harry winked at her.

"Hell yeah. You know I love you more though, Tony," he added, catching his lover's pout. Abby snickered, and Tony grinned, kissing Harry's neck lightly.

"You'd better."

"Jethro? Are you home?" Ducky's voice called from the hallway, and Jethro groaned.

"Is everyone and their mothers going to show up?" he grouched, just as Ducky walked through the door.

"Actually, Jethro, I left mother at home today. I wanted to check Harry over, making sure he was recovering as he should be. It's such a shame that there aren't any cures for the common cold," he said with a shake of his head, and the three knew that Ducky was referring to the fact that neither muggles nor wizards had found a cure yet. Harry had gotten quite the surprise when he'd walked into the NCIS building to pick up Tony and Jethro, only to meet his ex-housemistress' squib cousin.

"Yeah, it sucks. And I'm fine, Ducky, just need rest. And tea, lots of tea," he added, propping himself up on his elbow and reaching for his mug as if to prove his point.

"Tea cures everything," Ducky agreed seriously, and Jethro rolled his eyes.

"You British and your tea," he muttered fondly. "Now if you're all going to stay, can you please pipe down and watch the damn movie? God knows Harry needs his sleep," he said, wrapping a protective arm around his youngest lover as Harry settled back down on his chest. Abby let out a quiet coo, but other than that, the group fell silent. Harry smiled to himself, trying desperately to keep his eyes open and on the movie, but eventually his eyelids began to droop, and soon he was fast asleep, completely unaware of the fond glances being directed at him from the others in the room, though none moreso than Jethro and Tony.

.-.-.

"Harry, come on babe, wake up," Harry heard Tony murmur, and he blinked his eyes open blearily, looking around.

"What? Where is everyone?" he asked in confusion, seeing all the empty chairs.

"They went home; you've been sleeping for hours. It's time for bed, gorgeous," Gibbs told him, wrapping his arms around Harry. Harry smiled bemusedly, tentatively sitting up, and he leant into Tony's side.

"It was nice of them to come over and see me; they didn't have to," he mused. Tony snorted, kissing his lover's forehead.

"Of course they did; you're family now, beautiful," he told him with a grin. Harry smiled back at him; he rather liked the sound of that.


End file.
